


To be so Blessed

by CinRose, Watchinginthedark



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Childbirth, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mpreg, merfolk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:30:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinRose/pseuds/CinRose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watchinginthedark/pseuds/Watchinginthedark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft and Greg haven't been mates long, but when the warm spring tides come in and breeding season begins, the two of them find themselves eager to start a family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broody

Greg grumbled at a merry group of minnows swimming in his path on the way back to the cave. His net was empty, as was his harpoon, his fishing trip unsuccessful. All those damn happy couples with their vibrant colours, either distracting him or driving the fish away. He should be joining in their song, letting it wash over him like a warm tide, but the Rural mer couldn’t gather the energy, not when he and his mate seemed to be the last to be gifted with fertility. If they were going to be at all that year.

Needless to say, his head of silver hair was hung and his pale blue and brown scales barely shone as he dragged himself back into their cave in a wake of tiny air bubbles. It wasn’t so much of being late that he was worried about, but rather he had to wonder if they were being punished because they were such an unusual match? Royals hardly ever mixed with bottom feeders like him and he used to not be bothered about it, but if that was why they hadn’t been blessed...

“If we get skipped over this year by the Goddess’ blessing, you know everyone is going to blame me for my ‘tainted’ blood, you know that right?” he groused, throwing the net next to the sea coral that brightened up the place with her bright pinks and purples. He deposited the harpoon next to it then swam a little further inside to find his mate.

A shock of blue colour caught his eye, making him think that a random fish had decided to invade their little home when he saw that the bright blue swatch belonged to his mate. Greg’s jaw dropped and his scales shone a little brighter.

“Like it? I find it such a handsome colour to say so myself.” Mycroft grinned, lounging rather smugly on his side, his stomach a vibrant display of blue, in contrast to his red and gold scales. He was nestled on their bed of plush mosses and other sea plants, his family chaplet dangling loosely over his chest, the sharp contrast of his vivid mating stone standing out beside the dark tones of his family beads. The mer smiled at Greg’s shock.

His stomach had turned not long after Greg had left to fish and initially, in his excitement, he’d almost immediately gone after his mate to show him. He’d held himself back however, realising just how much better it would be to surprise the man when he got back.

The warm spring waters meant breeding season, and he and Greg, while only have been mated since that fall, were anxious for their first brood. However, it had taken a while, both of them worrying while all other mers bellies changed to vibrant hues to signify the Goddess’s blessing of fertility, their own stomachs had remained their usual flesh coloured hue. Until today. Today, Mycroft had received the blessing, his stomach an attractive blue. He was ready to breed.

Greg floated a moment in shock before coming out of it with a full body shudder. He zipped farther into the cave to where their nest of dark kelp and algae framed Mycroft, and most importantly, the bright blue of his stomach that lured Greg in like bait on a trap. He was willingly caught though, his mouth split in a wide grin of wonder.

“Look at that,” he whispered, swimming over until he could spread his webbed fingers over Mycroft’s stomach. “I was really worried that we wouldn’t be blessed.” He shook it off though, now filled with excitement, his body awaking with spring arousal.

His fingers brushed over the fine scales at the edge of tail and flesh as he moved his hand up Mycroft’s smooth stomach, careful over the slits of his pectoral gills and fins, until he was gently grasping Mycroft’s cheek. He never thought his mate more gorgeous than in that moment when his dark eyes met Mycroft’s shining, bright blues.

“You ready for this?”

Mycroft nodded, licking his lips, his nostrils flaring slightly as the presence of his mate made his body even hungrier of their first breed. The mer leaned back on his elbows, letting Greg explore his body. While they were already very familiar with each other, sexual activities weren’t uncommon, even though they wouldn’t produce a brood until now, but it felt new like this. He displayed his stomach proudly to his mate, his arousal buzzing under his skin.

“I’m ready. More than you can imagine. I’m ready for our first brood Greg, and now we can have that. I’m absolutely sure about this.” He murmured, his gills fluttering as he took a deep breath. He glanced down at his belly, feeling proud of his colour and in turn his fertility, noting that the blue tone was spreading down his belly to his vent, making the way easier.

The fertile mer’s eyes travelled back up, following Greg’s attractive body to finally meet his eyes once more. This was the man he loved and he wanted nothing more than to carry his mate’s brood and bring their children into the world. Grinning, he leaned up and nipped at Greg’s collarbone carefully with his sharp teeth, leaving a light mark before nosing the other man’s chaplet, urging him forward. They were ready for this.

“I’d definitely say so,” Greg released a shocked little gasp at the feel of teeth, instinctively crowding forward to press their bodies together. His hand immediately went to Mycroft’s slim waist and a sharp inhale pushed them even closer, making Mycroft slide up more on their bed, disturbing the plant life around them.

Even though he was thoroughly enjoying being nuzzled, he dipped his head to coax Mycroft into a kiss, capturing his mate’s mouth passionately. All the while his hands resumed exploring, touching all around the blue skin until his fingers ghosted over Mycroft’s vent. The scales and skin around it was so warm there, so inviting, his own body feeling as if he had soaked in the rays of the sun all day.

He couldn’t believe they had been so blessed, that despite the odds against them they had been judged and seen fit to be parents. It made him feel weak and dizzy and exuberant, and entirely grateful. It also made him thoroughly incapable of resisting to urge of spinning them around in the water for the joy of it as they kissed, the kelp beneath them ticklish as they rolled.

Mycroft smiled against Greg’s lips as they spun over each other, their tails and fins causing turbulence in the water around them. Eventually, he stopped Greg’s joyous spin, or at least his control over it, by wrapping their tails together, their scales sliding against each other’s. When they finally stopped moving, they were a happy tangle of red, gold, blue and brown scales, the lack of movement settling them back down on their soft green bed, depositing them on their sides.

Mycroft chuckled and leaned in for another kiss, pressing his vent against the bulging slit that would soon not be able to hold back Greg’s erection. The eager mer rubbed himself against his mate, running his hands down the other man’s back, fingering and teasing Greg’s dorsal fin. He was always careful, but it was a spot his mate seemed to like, so he was he to deny him?

The Royal mer eventually broke the kiss, trailing his lips down Greg’s neck, mindful of his secondary gills. Their chaplets clinked gently together as he began to rock against the silver haired mer’s pelvis, hoping to coax out his mate’s cock. This time they were both eager, so it likely wouldn’t take too long, body to body, lips and hands on sensitive flesh, it was only a matter of time.

At the touch to the sensitive fin at his neck that trailed down to the edge of where his tail started to grow out, Greg made another shocked little sound in the back of his throat. Mycroft’s gentle teasing never failed to excite him, and as usual even making  his tail give a small, involuntary flick. His grip tightened at Mycroft’s waist and teeth nipped at the tiny, sparkling scales at the edge of Mycroft’s hairline.

“Poseidon, are you trying to drive me to madness on purpose?” he cursed breathlessly, meeting the undulation of Mycroft’s lithe form. Finally he could feel his erection start to slip free of its sheath, making him buck against his mate’s body once more. His fingers trailed up to glide over sensitive, pale flesh to get a better grip to urge the taller mer down until they were aligned.

He pulled away from Mycroft’s clever mouth, wanting to watch his mate when he entered him. The matching shells of their union seems to shine more on their chaplets than usual, in his opinion. It may just be him being foolishly sentimental, but he felt extra blessed in that moment, the touch of a warm current playing in their hair, over their skin, the mesh of their scales particularly beautiful to him. He couldn’t stop imagining how their children were going to look like. 

“Goddess Moon, I love you. You know that right?” He cupped Mycroft’s cheek; sun kissed Rural skin dark against Mycroft’s Royal pale skin. His prince. Goddess, the spring fertility was making him such a clown fish. His body undulated as he waited for an answer, his cock coaxed more to just outside Mycroft’s vent. All it would take was one more thrust but still he waited, wanting this coupling to be perfect, or until Mycroft got impatient because Greg loved it when he was bossy in bed. Either or.

“I do know. And I know I love you just as much.” The Royal murmured, leaning up to kiss his mate as he nudged his vent against Greg’s cock, his own erection slowly sliding out of its sheath. So he was a little impatient to get on with the breeding, but he could indulge his mate with a little sweetness, before oh so carefully teasing Greg’s bottom lip with his teeth.

It was amazing how well they fit sometimes; they certainly weren’t a common couple. Royals and Rurals generally loathed each other, the Royals seeing the shore-dwelling Rurals as dirty bottom feeders and the Rurals seeing the tropical reef-dwelling Royals as flashy pompous gits. They were all the same species, the only difference being the Rural’s earthy colouring versus the Royal’s colourful display of reds and golds and yellows and greens. Some believed that long ago they had all just been one group, something dividing them, driving part of the group away from the reefs, towards the shore where they had adapted, their colours changing to blend in.

For Mycroft and Greg, it hadn’t been love at first sight or anything. There had been a definite attraction, but Mycroft was a snob from a high up Royal family and Greg, a hard working Rural. They had initially clashed, but over time, things had strangely fallen into place, the pair finally becoming mates, much to many mers confusion and displeasure. Royals didn’t mate with Rurals.

But oddity in tastes seemed to run in Mycroft’s family. He himself had been born a singleton, a rarity for mers, as had his brother, Sherlock. Sherlock was his only sibling and Mycroft liked to keep track of him. He knew for a fact that the younger mer was courting a Rural himself, a weathered and stubborn Rural from the southern islands by the name of John.

Drawn back from his thoughts, he returned to the moment, intensifying the kiss, his hands on Greg’s back as he hungrily rocked their hips together, urging Greg on so they could get breeding, his own cock now completely unsheathed between their stomach.

“Gregory, could you please get on with it?” He purred, a hint of need in his voice. He knew Greg wanted a brood as much as he did and they weren’t going to get any closer to that with his mate only teasing him.

Greg laughed at his mate's impatience, evident by the eager flesh between their bellies. "Yes, my highness," he teased playfully, rolling his hips to release his cock and fill his mate at once, groaning deeply as Mycroft took him willingly into his body. Their grasps tightened as the initial flood of pleasure from joining washed through them.

He still couldn't believe they were mates sometimes. Not in the sense of 'what was I thinking?' but that with his rotten luck in the past, the Fates had taken enough pity to give him Mycroft. At the beginning they clashed as much as they fit well together, but there had never been any denying how well they did fit. And now they were going to have their first brood, Goddess.

"How many do you think we'll have?" He asked between breathy pants while his hands sought out the places that made Mycroft shiver, like the sensitive skin right at the edge of scales. He entwined their tails for leverage on a hard thrust that pushed him as deep as possible in the welcoming heat of Mycroft's body. "Oh yeah..." His head tilted back on a moan before he remembered what he was saying. "Cause I think seven is a very healthy number."

Mycroft shuddered as Greg pushed in and began to thrust, his stomach flushing a deeper hue while his face was tinged with pink. He didn’t know if it was because he was fertile or not, but everything seemed more sensitive, making him heady with arousal and pleasure. The mer gripped Greg’s shoulders as he pushed his vent down around his mate’s cock. It took him a moment to register the other mer’s words.

“Seven? I... Oh, Goddess.. Doesn’t.. doesn’t that seem a bit much to you?” he panted, imagining himself carrying a brood of seven. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t be happy to carry that many should that be the case, it just seemed like a lot and he’d be huge. “I’d find... I’d find maybe four or five more agreeable... Seven seems a lot for a first brood...”

Greg knew Mycroft had a small family. The fact that Mycroft was a singleton should be a tell that they might have smaller broods, but they could hope. The Royal knew Greg had a big family, from a good sized brood, so with luck, that would even things out. Leaning his head back, Mycroft squeezed his vent around Greg, gazing up at his mate. The Goddess had blessed them and that’s what mattered right now. They could worry about brood size once Mycroft was pregnant.

Whatever Greg had planned to say in response was broken by a strangled moan as Mycroft tightened around him, making him buck hard. Just like that he was close, his body too hot and a deep ache tightening in his stomach. His fingers slid into auburn hair, the other coming round to grasp the firm curve of Mycroft’s rump to hold him even closer.

If they had a rhythm to start with it was broken by the frantic instinctual need for friction and release. Right then it didn’t matter how many they had from one to nine, all that mattered was the wet slide of their bodies, skin against skin, scale clinking against scale. He tilted his head up for a desperate kiss as he rolled Mycroft’s beneath him, thrusting even deeper.

“Come on luv,” he growled between messy kisses that verged on reckless. “So close but I want to feel you. Tell me what you need.”

“You, just you...” He managed in reply, meeting Greg’s thrusts with each rock of his hip. A fin grazed over his skin as their flesh heated with friction and exertion. The Royal mer was awash in pleasure as his mate slide deep inside him with each plunge. His arms were a tangle around the other man, letting himself be carried away by all of it.

He was close, he knew that much, but his own release, while pleasurable, wasn’t the point of their coupling. The mer warped his tail a little more around Greg’s, leaning in to kiss his mate’s lips, sliding his tongue in and tracing the Rural’s sharp teeth before withdrawing. Many mers learned early on why it wasn’t a good idea to use one’s tongue a lot while kissing.

Mycroft had heard stories about mers seducing human men and women, learning how humans used their tongues a lot more. But then, he supposed humans and their flat teeth didn’t have much risk of biting their mate’s tongues enough to end up with a mouthful of blood. Mycroft hadn’t found out from personal experience, fortunately. But then, Mycroft hadn’t really experimented like more young mers did.

The man made a soft, pleasured noise, licking Greg’s lips again as he caressed the Rural’s neck, back and fins, his only thoughts on the pleasure he was feeling and how much he loved his mate.

Greg fancied himself a considerate lover. He always made sure that is mates we well taken care of before he worried about his own needs, but this time trying to fight his own biology was like trying to fight a group of sharks with a fish hook. His instinct quickly overrode all else, driving him towards one single goal.

His hands stopped caressing Mycroft’s body to grip onto his hips tightly, his webbed fingers leaving scores while his thrusting reached a frenzied pace. Forget sun kissed, he felt a burning in his core unlike any heat he knew, leaving him breathless and dizzy. Short, harsh pants were pressed against Mycroft’s neck, any words indistinguishable in the agonized moans of ecstasy.

And when it finally became too much, his climax hit him like a storm, crashing over him and sweeping him away in a white out bliss. He was vaguely aware of grazing his sharp teeth over the thin skin of Mycroft’s shoulder, not quite a bite but when he was more aware of himself he could taste blood.

He was still riding on the haze of climax though, his mind too blank for him to panic yet if he had bit too hard. And he still had his mate to worry about. Capturing Mycroft’s lips in a deep kiss, he slid a hand between them to wrap his webbed hand around his lover’s firm cock, giving the shaft a squeeze while rubbing his thumb over the tip. He didn’t tease for long, quickly pumping his mate in fast, short strokes designed to bring his lover to the edge while Greg was still deep inside, his body yet spent.

Mycroft had been able to feel his mate’s release, if it hadn’t been obvious from Greg’s reaction, the feel of the man’s teeth making him gasp. He wasn’t finished himself, but fortunately for him, his mate always tended to his needs. The mer panted as Greg stroked him, feeling the other man’s webbing sliding over his cock as he slowly approached his own climax.

The Royal closed his eyes a moment, relishing the feeling, also blissed on the knowledge that his mate’s seed was combining with his own within his pouch. In a few months, he’d be large with his and Greg’s brood, and that in itself brought him closer. They would likely breed several times over the next few days until Mycroft’s blue belly faded away, but the first breed was always thought to be the most important.

Mycroft opened his eyes again, leaning up to kiss Greg feverishly as he thrust into the other mer’s hand instinctively, his skin flushed with need and arousal as he was brought closer, the coiling heat in his stomach becoming pressing.

Soon, climax claimed him, a moan leaving his lips as his seed was uselessly spread in the water like some fish did instead of mating. The Royal rode his pleasure until it finally ebbed away, leaving him feeling thoroughly shagged. In his bliss, he pulled his mate down for a soft kiss. With luck, their first breeding would be a success, but right now, he just wanted to relax, preferably tangled in Greg’s arms.

Greg immediately rolled them onto their sides, making sure that Mycroft was lying on the softest patch of kelp on his uninjured side. He found the bite mark, though luckily it was no more than a graze. A small wisp of blood floated to mix in the water around them, but not enough to attract larger predators. He still felt bad about it though. He had never lost control like that.

“Sorry,” he apologized softly, wiping his thumb over the small graze on Mycroft shoulders while he nuzzled against Mycroft’s neck along the edge of his gills to feel his mate breathe. “I have no idea what came over me. I promise to be more careful next time.” They would probably nap then would feel the urge to breed again. If they were lucky, he would have the strength to hunt before then, but at the moment he was content to lie with his Royal and bask.

“It’s quite all right. I can barely feel it.” Mycroft assured him, nuzzling his neck. In truth, it was beginning to sting a good bit now that the adrenaline high was coming down, but it was really just superficial. No need to worry Greg. He had just gotten caught up in the heat of the moment of their first true breed. Mycroft flicked his tail, nudging Greg’s reassuringly.

“I suppose getting the Goddess’s blessing can put fire into anyone.” He murmured, dozing off into a lazy post-cotial snooze. With the warm waters of spring filling their cave and surrounding them in warmth, Mycroft smiled. In five moons their cave would have several new additions and that was definitely something to look forward to.


	2. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When things aren't progressing like they should, Greg and Mycroft start having doubts.

Greg entered the cave from his fifth fishing trip that afternoon with a few catches to show for it. He added the live catches to the net he made himself, pretty much just trying to keep himself occupied from the real reason why he kept leaving the cave. He was avoiding Mycroft because he was avoiding his failure.

A month had passed and Mycroft’s fertility colour had waned, but not to be replaced by a pouch and the colour that would come with it, indicating that he was heavy with a brood. His stomach was still flat as ever, whereas every mer couple out there were flaunting their big bellies and their happiness and making Greg feel even more like a failure.

He just didn’t understand it. They had been blessed with the colour of fertility, but no actual children? It just didn’t make sense to him. He felt like the Goddess was mocking them by giving them false hope, or punishing them. And it had to be something he did. Maybe just because he was a Rural that had been dumb enough to make a Royal like Mycroft stray,mating with a bottom feeder like him.

“Myc, you home?” he asked dispassionately. As much as he hated himself for it, he wished that he had missed his mate. Mycroft was hopefully at the palace, pretending that he didn’t actually run the entire sea. Greg went deeper in the cave, absently playing with the mating stone on his chaplet, wondering how long it would be until Mycroft wised up and broke their bond to find someone who could actually give him the brood he wanted.

Mycroft glanced up when he heard Greg’s voice at the mouth of their cave. So his mate had finally returned. The Royal sighed, waiting a moment before swimming out to greet the other mer. He didn’t blame Greg for what he was doing, he’d sort of been doing it himself, throwing himself into his work at the palace. Neither of them wanted to face the fact that their breeding had been unsuccessful, Mycroft’s belly failing to round into a pouch heavy with their brood.

“Hello love.” He replied, swimming in and offering the Rural a small smile. “I’ve just gotten back myself. I saw you’ve been fishing. Good of you to as well, the markets had a horrible selection today.” Mycroft’s tail flicked, making eddies in the water around him.

They didn’t greet each other like they used to, their inability to have children taking a toll on their relationship. Not once did Mycroft think of finding a new mate though. He was happy with Greg, despite the difficulties they were having. Sometimes he had to wonder if Greg knew that though. Deciding to hopefully bring back a little warmth between them, Mycroft pushed through the water right up to his mate and snagged his lips with his own. It just felt needed.

After a moment, he pulled away, cupping his mate’s cheek. The mer smiled again with only a soft quirk of his lips. “I know this is difficult for you, Gregory, but sometimes this just happens. We aren’t the only couple to not have a brood this year. Maybe this is a sign from the Goddess that we need to wait. We’ve not even been mated three seasons. Perhaps She’s testing us. We have to stay strong.”

A shock of surprise went through Greg when Mycroft kissed him, a sign of physical affection that hadn’t come easily between them for a few weeks now. He barely had the chance to reciprocate before Mycroft pulled back, but managed to wind an arm around his mate’s waist to keep him from pulling away. At Mycroft’s words, he dipped his head, wanting very much to believe Mycroft.

“Maybe,” he sighed, though not with much conviction. It was plausible, but he still felt like he did something wrong. “But it’s not like we were the only ones to try out so soon. It’s just,” Greg stopped, raising his head to meet Mycroft’s gaze and biting the inside of his cheek. He brought his hand up to run his fingers over Mycroft’s smooth belly.

“We want this so badly, Myc. And I know we would make great parents if we work together. I just don’t get why we weren’t blessed.” He looked away again as self loathing swelled up. He just knew it was his fault. Just like how he hadn’t been able to give Lucy a brood for the two seasons they had been mates before she broke their bond and left him. It was rare but not unheard of for a merman to not be able to carry broods, but to not be able to father them? The Goddess must see something he didn’t and had deemed him unfit to be a parent. He just didn’t know how to live with that.

“I don’t either, love. Who can say why the Goddess does anything? But we can’t let this get between us.” Mycroft led Greg’s head gently with his hand so they were eye to eye again. “I’m not going to do what your last mate did you you, Gregory. Yes, we want children, but if that doesn’t come into fruition, that doesn’t mean I’ll leave. I mated with you because I love you. Not having children isn’t going to change that. Some mers never breed, be it by choice or fate, and yet they live together happily for many years. We can’t let this tear us apart.”

Mycroft’s heart hurt for Greg. He knew the Rural’s story and knew it must be taking a toll on the mer. The man wanted children, that much was for sure, and the Royal knew it must hurt to not have that wish come into existence. He was a little disappointed himself, though his own wish for children had come from Greg’s desire.

He remained hopeful though. Greg likely had difficulty with such things, seeing as he’d already been let down so much, but Mycroft still believed that the Goddess would come through for them. To him, it was a sign for them to wait. He was convinced that in time, they would receive the children they desired. Though, in the back of his mind, he also accepted that that may never be the case. Hopefully Greg would be able to cope if they never did have a brood, because he knew for a fact that Greg was the man he wanted to share his life with, children or no.

Greg managed to keep eye contact for a few minutes before he felt overwhelmed by the Royal's conviction that everything would be alright in the end. And for Mycroft to love him so much to be willing to never have children and still be with him... It broke Greg a little. He swallowed roughly and pressed his forehead to Mycroft's shoulder.

"We won't," he promised, drawing Mycroft closer. "I'm sorry, I haven't been taking this well. But I won't let this tear us apart Myc. I promise. Even if we never..." He couldn't quite say it though, but he knew, in time, he would accept whatever fate the Goddess bestowed on them. So as long as he had Mycroft.

Despite that promise, Mycroft noticed Greg still seem distant and it worried him, but he hoped it was just his mate’s way of coping and that he would come out of it when he was ready. They both went their separate ways each morning, Greg out hunting and Mycroft to the palace. More often than not, Greg was gone before Mycroft even got up to catch the schools of early rising fish. It still stung to wake up to an empty bed though.

However, a few days after Greg had made his promise, Mycroft awoke to something odd. It was yet another day where he rose to find Greg gone and would have gone his own way once he groomed his scales. But this time something stopped him. He noticed that morning, a swell. It was about three inches above his vent, bulging right where his skin and scales merged at his waist and was tinted a reddish-pink.

The mer frowned, brushing over the bump with his webbed fingers, noting the firm yet somehow elastic quality to it. His eyes widened as he realised that it was his pouch. He was actually starting to swell.

The mer’s face broke into a large grin as his heart fluttered. The Goddess had blessed them after all. It must just be a small brood, which, now that he thought about it, shouldn’t have come as a surprise. He’d been born the only one in his own brood after all. Even if it was only one, it meant the Goddess had not forsaken them.

Still, as absolutely pleased as he was, Greg was away and he had to get to the palace. Her Highness was entertaining Mako delegates and missing the meeting would put a mark on his reputation. His hand still splayed over his belly, he groomed quickly and left, eager to surprise his mate when they were both home.

Despite slowly accepting their fate, Greg’s heart hadn’t really been into hunting that day. He had caught a couple, but decided to let them go after making sure they could swim. They had been small, and gullible enough to be caught on his hooks, so it wasn’t like he was really losing anything. He wouldn’t return feeling like a complete tosser just because he didn’t add a few measly trout to their already large net of much bigger game.

He did meander a bit though, swimming out to where other Rurals swam near the shore or the surface, always courting danger. He didn’t run into anyone he knew, just swam out there for a bit lost in his thoughts. It was a sunny day and he could use the warm touch of the sun on his skin, though he was sure to be careful of any passing boats. Mycroft was gone for some delegation or something anyways, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford a little ‘me time.’

So naturally, the world had to intervene. Greg was just floating in peace, soaking up the sun’s rays, when the light was blacked out for a moment before a large, heavy net was thrown over him. Greg had trained for this, but training was never the same and instead of acting calmly, he panicked. Tail kicking madly and arms flailing; he fought against the sudden net which meant he only got himself more tangled up. He had been captured. Oh Goddess, fifty years old and he had let a human boat sneak up on him and got himself captured. It wasn’t enough that he couldn’t have children, he had to go and get caught and Mycroft would never know. No, he would think that Greg had abandoned him because he had been a mopey idiot and...

“Quit panicking, you idiot.” Greg froze and sunk under the surface at Sherlock’s voice. He suddenly felt like a fish that had got too close to an electric eel or a jellyfish, unable to do anything but sink down, trapped as he was, and stare stupidly at Sherlock’s condescending face.

“Sherlock?”

“Sometimes I wonder what my brother sees in you,” Sherlock tsked, shaking his head. Greg continued to stare at him through the holes in the net. “A renowned hunter and protector, and you let yourself get ensnared. Honestly, you should be ashamed of yourself. Just because Mycroft isn’t showing yet doesn’t mean you should just go, ‘oh, woe is me and my stupid small brain! I should just give up!’ Really, I am ashamed to be related to you through Mycroft.”

“Sherlock! What in the Goddess’s name do you think you’re doing?!” John swam up quickly, obviously just catching up to the tri-coloured mer, looking a mix of angry, frustrated and shocked at seeing that Sherlock had netted another mer, just to spite the trapped man from the looks of it.

“Is that Greg?! Oh, Goddess, it is. Greg, I am so sorry.” The green and sandy brown scaled Rural mer shot forward to try to free Greg from the net, glaring daggers at Mycroft’s younger brother. “Sherlock, are you out of your mind? You said you wanted to talk to Greg, not traumatised him!” He spat before turning back to working the other Rural from the net.

“I am so, so sorry. I have no idea what’s gotten into him. I had no idea he was going to do this... Move your tail to the left, I’ve almost got it...” John fumbled with the net for a few more moments before getting it untangled and pulling it away, freeing Greg from its ropes.

Greg kicked free of the ropes and pushed himself back with a hard kick to get as far from them as he could. Over his little shock, he glared at Sherlock, really curious what had gotten into the daft fish as well. He swore that just because Sherlock’s scales were three colours, black, deep green and purple, that the bastard felt entitled to pull off shite like that.

“Thank you John. Now if you don’t mind, turn around. I don’t want witnesses,” he growled. Sherlock was hardly cowed though. He stared at them like they bored him to tears, going as far as inspecting his claws like it was far more interesting.

“He’s hardly traumatised, John. And I was doing him a favour. He’s been abandoning his duties to my brother and being an idiot. What if I had been a human? He would have been caught then where would Mycroft be? About to have a brood and mateless.” Sherlock rolled his eyes at Greg in effect and it was sheer strength of will that kept Greg from punching him.

“Look, you may be the sharpest mer around, but it must have slipped your notice that Mycroft isn’t actually...”

“Oh please. Think, Lestrade! I was a single, Mycroft was a single, we have no other siblings from a father who was a twin and a mother who was part of a brood of three and the only brood. Our family have small broods, you idiot! Mycroft is simply not showing yet. Honestly, and some merfolk think that you’re observant,” Sherlock scoffed. Greg didn’t know what to say to that and still felt like punching the bastard for netting him.

John sighed, shaking his head and putting himself between Greg and Sherlock. He was fairly sure Greg wouldn’t start throwing punches, but putting something between the two of them would probably lower the tension too. The mer rolled his eyes at the Royal, giving him that “bit not good” look before once again turning back to Greg.

“As much as a _git_ he is about how he told you that, I agree with him. As a healer, I can tell you that it’s normal for mers from smaller broods and families to generally produce smaller broods themselves. If you two did breed when Mycroft was fertile, he should be pregnant. It would be very unlikely for him not to be.” John told the other Rural calmly.

“Sherlock’s... _very_ sure you did breed and has also informed me that while the broods in his family are small, it’s never been the case that anyone in his family has not become pregnant after breeding while fertile.” He explained, trying to be thorough so Sherlock wouldn’t feel the need to correct him and be rude again.

Greg let that sink in then smacked himself on the forehead. Goddess, he had been such an idiot! As he thought about it, it made perfect sense. He had even known a few mers that had small broods and didn’t show until even their second month, and there he was, barely a month in after the spring fertility blessing, and he had given up hope. He felt incredibly stupid.

“I’m an idiot,” he groaned then shook his head. “I need to get back to my cave. Thank you again, John. Sherlock, while I appreciate you knocking sense into me, I am not thanking you for making me think I had been caught by humans, you berk!”

Sherlock merely waved him off like he was done with him; prompting Greg to kick eddies at him as he swam off. He needed to get home to Mycroft and apologise for being such a moody moron.

Mycroft frowned as he gazed up out of the mouth of their cave, starting to get a little worried. He’d been periodically peering out, hoping to catch Greg coming home, but slowly it had become watching the sun cross the sky as time passed. Even when he sulked, Greg was usually home by now. The Royal mer pursed his lips and quelled his worry for the time being as he swam back inside.

He’d barely been able to contain his joy all day, gazing down at the soft swell of his pouch often. A few other mers had even noticed the change as well and had congratulated him on the side. It had... felt good. Made him feel proud. He was carrying his mate’s brood, even if it was small, and that made him feel wonderful.

Now if only his mate would get home so he could share the news. He was sure that if Greg knew they were actually having children, it would pull him out of the slump in an instant. Mycroft just hoped he hadn’t gone and done something stupid or dangerous to try to cope. The Royal shook the thought from his head. Greg would return soon enough.

Greg had swam back to the cave as fast as he could, but it was still on the edge of getting dark by the time their cave came into view, the bright pink coral at the lip a beacon. He was breathless by the time he finally entered in a wake of eddies, immediately going to lean against a wall to catch his breath. Inside he could feel Mycroft's presence and felt extra bad for having not been home before Mycroft returned.

"So, ran into your brother today," he said after a moment of hard breaths of refreshing water. His eyes were closed with one arm pressed to his forehead. He wasn't as young as he used to be, getting out of shape he felt despite all the fishing he had been doing lately.

"He is seriously warped, you know that? As crazy as a flounder. But... He did make me realise that I've been an idiot lately and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for getting all moody and causing you more stress than you need. I just have to be patient, is all." He paused to catch his breath again.

Mycroft immediately perked up when he heard his mate’s voice, feeling silly about how excited he was, but he really couldn’t help it. The pregnant mer swam towards the mouth, chuckling as he heard Greg mention his brother. If the Rural had ran into Sherlock, then that generally explained why he was so late. Sherlock had a way for taking up everyone’s time at a moment’s notice

“My brother does have a way of bashing his thoughts right into everyone else's heads. He didn’t do too much damage, did he?” Mycroft replied, flicking the bioluminescent plants that lined the cave lazily to make them brighten as he approached.

It was still dark enough that Greg likely wouldn’t be able to notice the colour change of his belly unless he got a good look, but the swell was a little noticeable. The Royal swam up to the man, giving him a once over. “Well, he certainly got you riled up about something. Anything I should be worried about?”

Greg moved his arm away to peer at his mate with a rueful smile. "No. Well, outside of the fact that he tossed a net over me and made me think I had been caught by humans," Greg grumbled with a slow shake of his head. It was a wonder that no one had harpooned the Royal brat yet... "And I'm fine. Just Sherlock being Sherlock."

Greg ran a hand through his silver hair before bringing it down to grasp Mycroft's waist. His mate seemed to be in a good mood which helped greatly to put Greg at ease. Even Sherlock's antics didn't bother him so much at the moment. "But despite that he reminded me that your family tend to have small broods and John explained that it's not likely for us to get blessed with fertility and not a brood."

He rubbed his thumb over Mycroft's stomach over where his pouch would soon swell, but instead of flat, smooth skin, he rubbed against a small bump. "Huh?" Greg frowned, eyes snapping down to Mycroft's stomach though the way they were positioned, he couldn't see properly so his eyes snapped back to Mycroft's in question.

Mycroft smirked as he listened to Greg explaining what he already knew now, unable to conceal a grin at his mate’s confusion, pulling back a little so the other mer could see better. “It seems that my brother and the good Healer were right then.” He mused, glancing done as the soft swell.

“I noticed it this morning. It seems our brood just took their sweet time to make their presence known. Granted, this will mean it’s going to be a small brood, just as you probably heard today from my brother, but I’m not going to complain. A small brood is better than no brood at all.” The mer chuckled, leaning in to kiss his mate.

“I told you we just had to be patient.. though.. I will admit I didn’t think we’d only have to wait a few days.” Mycroft chuckled, his expression softening, curious as to how Greg was going to react. Even if Sherlock had taken the edge of the surprise away.

Greg gaped at Mycroft, his webbed hand fully splayed over the small bump of his stomach and still not quite believing it. He suddenly pulled back and dropped to a kneel, embedding his tail into the sand below so he could get a closer look. In the pale glow of the illuminescent plants, he could still see the soft pink colour of Mycroft's belly and the gentle outline of the start of his pouch.

"Oh Goddess that's gorgeous." He swiped his thumb gently over the swell, imagining he could already see his children, even if they might only have two or three at the most. He didn't care if they only had one to be honest, they had been blessed, that was all that mattered to him. "Oh thank you, Goddess."

Greg planted a kiss right over Mycroft's stomach before surging up to cup his mate's face in his hands and giving him a smacking, sweet kiss. Happiness and excitement rose like the tide, making him wrap Mycroft close so he could spin them in the water while laughing in his joy. "I had honestly feared," he said, though he couldn't stop grinning. "Oh Poseidon I'm so glad I was wrong."

Mycroft’s smile widened as he watched Greg drop down to inspect his growing pouch, his heart swelling to see his mate so happy. He was giving Greg something the mer had convinced himself he would never have and the sheer joy between them was contagious.

Mycroft was a little startled by Greg suddenly kissing and spinning them, making him instinctively grab onto his mate, but it only added to the thrill. In that moment, they were not different from anyone else, just a happy couple overjoyed to be having their first brood. It felt good and right and perfect.

The Royal mer grinned against Greg’s cheek before turning his head a little to kiss the warm, rough skin. His voice cracked a little as he finally spoke, his emotions getting to him. “Even I was having doubts until this morning. We’ve been seen fit, Gregory. We’re going to be parents.” The mer closed his eyes as he nestled his head against Greg’s shoulder. Save perhaps the day they’d become mates, nothing had ever felt so perfect.


	3. Mates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock’s been acting strange and one day, John gets fed up and decides to find out why.

Sherlock was never one for awkward situations or potentially making a fool of himself, so he often avoided such circumstances entirely. However, he found himself unable to avoid such discomfort on one such occasion, which currently involved him carrying an overabundant amount of kelp from the seaweed forest on the edge of Rural territory back to the private cave that he had finally found that lied between the two territories, blissfully hidden by a forest of sea anemones.

It was an overly flamboyant area, pretty in an aesthetic way in which John should find alluring. It had taken him months to find the perfect cave, which involved an altercation with a Mako that he had to lie to John about the reasoning behind the fight that resulted in a nasty gash on his left arm. None of that mattered though, he had rightfully claimed the cave, even went as far as to clean it himself, and now finally he was making it the perfect home for John to convince him to become Sherlock’s mate.

In a way he hated himself for all the work he had done just for one merman, but John wasn’t like anyone else. He wasn’t a complete idiot for one, and didn’t write Sherlock off as a madman the day they met. Well, John often called him mad, but Sherlock had learned it was a term of endearment for the most part.

And that was the thick of Sherlock’s problem. Endearments. Affection. Over time their odd and improbable friendship blossomed to something... different. More. At least for him. He tried to ignore it at first. Mating, pah! He had no time for such pursuits. But over time he found himself discontent with just a platonic friendship with John. He wanted to actually be mates and all the mess that would go with it. In fact, he found himself looking forward to the mess of parenthood and the likes, so as long as it was with John.

Thus why he was currently swimming towards the cave, impeded by the heavy armful of kelp, some of which he regretted was stuck in his hair and the sharp edges of his dorsal fin. He looked like an idiot, he was sure, but luckily no one, most importantly John, seemed to be around to witness him making a spectacle of himself. Or so he thought.

John exhaled sharply, his hands on his hips. Not only was he frustrated, he was getting worried. Sherlock disappearing wasn’t unusual, but he’d been disappearing more and more frequently and today he’d been gone for hours, doing Goddess knows what. That’s what stickled John the most.

Usually Sherlock would at least tell John what he was going to be doing if it was a regular thing (sometimes he just disappeared randomly for hours and returned with no explanation, something John had just forced himself to get used to), but this time he hadn’t been. He’d disappear around the same times each day and would stay gone four hours at a time, giving John unsatisfactory one word explanations. If John heard “Experimenting” as an answer to “Where have you been?” one more time, he was going to scream.

Today, he’d gotten lucky though. A friend of his had spotted Sherlock near a crossing of Rural and Royal territories to the south of Sherlock’s communal cave. John wasn’t sure what Sherlock was doing there but as fed up as he was, he’d be scaled if he wasn’t going to find out. Now a mer on a mission, John set out.

He didn’t exactly find what he’d been expecting, quirking an eyebrow when he finally found the tri-coloured mer. The man had his back to him, struggling with what looked like a giant pile of kelp. There were bits and pieces of it floating away and getting tangled in his hair from what John could tell from where he was hiding behind a rock. Decided that interrupting the Royal wouldn’t endanger him (that had happened before), John slipped out and swam closer.

“Um.. Sherlock.. what are you doing?”

Sherlock prided himself for being one not easily startled. Even so, John's presence was such a shock that he kicked his tail on surprise, causing him to jump and drop half his heavy load. He quickly spun around, sending more kelp in a messy flurry of green around them like seaweed confetti. It took effort not to blush in pure mortification. He had been caught by John of all people. Oh dear Goddess.

"John! What are you doing here?" He demanded, angry in his panic. He dropped the rest of the kelp, not that it would really change anything, then looked down at it, trying to think of an explanation. He had to think of something, anything! The cave wasn't ready for him to show John yet. He wasn't ready.

"Would you believe this is for an experiment?" He looked back at John with a hopeful expression, though he knew already that it simply wouldn't fly. But for once in his life he was so horribly frazzled that he couldn't think of a lie to get himself out of this mess.

“To be honest, I’m not sure what to think, Sherlock,” John replied with a sigh, crossing his arms and glancing down at the dropped kelp. He wasn’t really sure what to make of Sherlock acting something other than his usual calm either.

“All I know, is that you’ve been disappearing for hours on end without saying anything and that I’ve been worried. So I followed you. Apparently I didn’t have anything to worry about if all you’re doing is hauling around kelp, though it still brings the question of why...” John paused, carefully scratching his scalp with his claws as he tried to puzzle that bit out, before looking up and holding Sherlock’s gaze.

“So I guess I just should ask. Is it an experiment? Really? If it is, then you can just tell me you know. It’s just... I’ve been worried. Have I been worried for nothing? Because, honestly, this is weird, even for you. What experiment could you possibly be doing with arm loads of kelp? That you couldn’t ask me to help you with at that?”

Sherlock pursed his lips, frustrated with himself. He couldn't come up with a lie he knew with certainty would be successful so he didn't even try. It was now or never whether he wanted it to be or not. Sherlock let out a sigh.

"Pick up some of the kelp then follow me. I will explain everything but I must show you something first," he said resignedly, bending down to pick up a good portion of the dropped kelp. Without waiting for John, he turned around and swam off, but at a slow pace in consideration for his friend.

They were only a few minutes from the cave at any rate, an easy swim despite having to navigate through the brightly coloured sea sponges and other flora. The mouth of the cave itself wasn't very wide, giving the impression that it wasn't large on the inside, but this wasn't the case at all. It was very spacious inside with a side nook that could double for storage for fish and other sources of nourishment. Currently it was housing an embarrassing amount of shells that he had intended to spread throughout the cave to make it more alluring for John. If anything, he had been riding on John being easily impressed by bright and shiny things to convince him to become Sherlock's mate.

He added the kelp to the modest pile of bedding that he had already collected then swam to a shelf within the cave wall. His hand closed in two sparkling gems, not mere pebbles for his John, then turned around to face the merman himself. He waited nervously to see John's reaction to the cave itself.

John picked up the remaining kelp and followed the Royal mer, now curious as to what was going on. He admired the colourful display of this section of reef. It really as a beautiful section of territory, a private area that John had to admit was utterly gorgeous. So when he saw Sherlock disappear into the mouth of a cave, he took a double take. He hadn’t been aware that there were caves in this area. Shaking off his astonishment, the Rural mer followed the Royal into the opening.

He almost dropped the kelp. The cave within was large and certainly livable.. And from the looks of it, it was being made exactly that. He watched Sherlock deposit the kelp on the existing pile and only then did it sink in. Sherlock had been preparing this cave. This was what he’d been doing for hours and hours. But, that still added the question of why.

John added the remaining kelp to the pile, his brows furrowing. Mers only moved from their communal caves for only a handful of reasons. Communal caves were perfect for single mers, almost all of them moving into one once they matured and left their parents’ caves. They only moved out when they felt the need for privacy. They usually only moved out when they had a mate, usually prepping one and offering it to their potential mate as a sort of proposal- John’s eyes snapped to Sherlock, his eyes wide. He might just be jumping to conclusions but...

“Sherlock... Why have you been doing this?” He asked, his heart suddenly thumping. Was.. was Sherlock planning on asking him to be his mate?

Throat inconveniently tight, Sherlock swallowed roughly as he swam closer to John. He got right up close to see the unique patterns in John's eyes, the cave bright enough from the luminescent plants and the shiny shells that reflected the light around the cavern. He read every clue he could see, reading confusion but he dared say even hope. It was enough to give him courage.

"Isn't it obvious?" He asked softly, holding John's gaze. The Royal took a deep breath to steady himself before going on. "The reason for all of my deflections lately, the answer to my swanning off on you is because yes, I have been preparing this cave to live in. And I... Well," he looked down to take John's hand to drop the blue jewel into John's palm. It was small, admittedly, but already prepared to be added to a chaplet, should John take it. He met John's eyes once more.

"I was hoping you would join me. Here. As my mate." He exhaled shakily. Everything was riding on John's answer.

John blinked at the tiny blue gem in his palm, it taking him a good minute and a half to register what Sherlock had said until he remembered he was supposed to say something. Except, what was he supposed to say? Nothing like this had ever been talked about between them before. They’d never kissed or done anything romantic or sexual. Most mers would decline in an instant.

But..

He did actually love Sherlock.

The Rural mer swallowed thickly as he turned the mating stone over in his fingers. He didn’t know exactly when he’d fallen for the Royal mer, maybe while chasing him all over the place in his crazy experiments or swimming as fast as he possibly could beside the mer when those experiments got them in trouble or what, but he had. He’d fallen hard, and without a single romantic advance made. He finally glanced up at Sherlock, meeting his eyes and seeing the sincerity in them. This wasn’t an experiment. He was really asking.

Wrapping his fingers around the beautiful bead and clutching it tightly, he swam up to the Royal mer til there was only about an inch between them. It was then he could no longer contain it. The Rural suddenly smiling widely and gripped Sherlock’s shoulder, pulling the mer into a passionate kiss. Hopefully Sherlock would get his answer from that, but he was fully prepared to say yes if he hadn’t gotten his point across.

Sherlock gripped his own stone tightly as he impatiently waited for an answer. His tail flicked lightly in his anxiety and it took everything not to demand an answer. Then when he feared he could wait no longer, he was suddenly in John's grasp, being kissed to an inch of his life.

Of the reactions he had hoped for, that hadn't been it so he had woefully been caught off guard. His tail flailed and a shocked sound welled up from his throat to be swallowed by the mer rendering him speechless. Luckily for him, he had always been quick to catch on and soon regained his higher functioning.

Mindful of the bead in his hand, he pulled the Rural mer in tight and returned the passionate kiss. Sherlock gave himself entirely to John in that moment, completely losing himself. He pressed his fist to the small of John's back, his other hand buried in soft, tawny hair and closed his eyes to thoroughly relish in the feel of John kissing him. His mate.

When they broke he was dizzy, pleasantly so, and feeling lightheaded and disoriented. It was a wonderful feeling, wondering why he didn't loathe feeling slow and drunk like the one time he had raided a small boat and discovered human wine. It was likely because it was John making him feel that way and that was entirely acceptable.

"I take that as a yes?" Sherlock grinned.

“Yes, that’s a yes.” John replied, gently running the fingers of his free hand down the back of Sherlock’s neck, his other hand still wrapped around the mating stone. He chuckled and rested his forehead against Sherlock’s for a moment, joy welling up inside him. “You mad, crazy eccentric mer, yes, I will be your mate. It’s insane, but after all the years of your crazy experiments and ideas, I love you.”

John shook his head, chuckling, a little overwhelmed. He was basically Sherlock’s mate and it had all happened so suddenly. All they had to do now was consummate the bond and add the beautiful blue gems to their chaplets and they’d be true mates. Some mers had celebrations after the fact, some didn’t. John didn’t care what they did, he just knew he was happy and it didn’t feel like he’d ever be able to put all of it into words.

The Fates had been so kind to them today, finally bringing them together by chance. Granted, it would have happened anyway once Sherlock had finished, but John was glad it had happened this way. Feeling giddy, he pushed himself against Sherlock and kissed him deeply once more. This time it took a while for them to part, leaving John chuckling and breathless.

“Maybe we should...” John tugged gently at Sherlock’s chaplet, feeling they should secure their gems first just in case they wound up consummating their bond right then and there. Even if they didn’t, John was sort of afraid he’d drop the beautiful stone if he wasn’t careful.

It took Sherlock an embarrassing long second to realise what John meant. He was overly warm, an electric tingle ran through his body which was wholly distracting, and he very, very much wanted to test if the bedding was comfortable enough. With John. Consummating their bond. And as annoying as it was that they were not over there yet doing just that, John did have a point.

"Yes, we should," he agreed, relinquishing his hold on John, albeit reluctantly and swimming back so that he wasn't distracted by the press of John's body. Handing John his own stone, Sherlock swam being his mate (Oh Goddess, Mycroft was never going to let him live this down) to unclasp John's chaplet for him. It was customary to secure one's mate's mating stone for them, a tradition he had not deleted from his mind.

Sherlock then took the stone he gave John originally and turned around to allow John access to his own chaplet. He waited until it was removed before spinning around so that they can secure the stones facing each other. It was oddly more intimate that way.

John smiled softly at Sherlock before looking down at the mer’s chaplet in his hands. This was his almost-mate’s family story, each bead, shell and stone meaning something important. And now it was going to have a blue mating stone that would match the one about to be put on his own chaplet. There would be no hiding it. Mating stones were always the brightest stone on a chaplet and stood out. Becoming mates was a source of pride and joy and it seemed Sherlock had had flaunting their bond in mind. Their gems would certainly stand out.

John glanced up once more before carefully sliding the gem onto Sherlock’s chaplet. It likely wouldn’t be the bead’s permanent spot, many mers often restrung their chaplets after the initial mating to place their stones where it suited them best, but for tradition’s sake, it was simply slid to the first spot available.

Once he was sure the stone was in place, John held the chaplet up and placed it to Sherlock’s throat, preferring to fumble around for a minute to secure it behind the Royal’s neck instead of making him turn around. This way, they could secure their chaplets at the same time, face to face. John smiled softly, still finding it hard to believe that this was happening. Still, he had no regrets. He wanted this.

Sherlock was a little more graceful than John in securing the chaplet around his new mate's neck, having been graced with longer arms. Not that he was truly bothered, he found even John's propensity for fumbling or sometimes being clumsy as one of the things he loved about the other mer. One of many things.

After securing the chaplet, Sherlock brushed his fingers over the sandy coloured scales along John's shoulders in a gentle caress, then up his throat until he was cupping John's warm cheek. Their gazes locked for a moment before Sherlock drew him in once more for a deep kiss.

They came together slowly, the water around them charged with anticipation. There was nothing else to get in their way of consummating their bond, which Sherlock was very glad about indeed. He had been waiting for this moment for far too long, having been courting John for years. Well at least in his point of view. Unfortunately he didn't think that John saw their many adventures as courting like Sherlock did but to him, nothing spoke of fated mates more than narrowly avoiding being harpooned by hunters together.

"I think this should conclude in bed, don't you," he said roughly, his voice taking a deeper quality with arousal. He turned them around to push John towards the bedding while sliding one hand down John's stomach, then lower still to tease at the mer's vent.

John made a soft, agreeable noise as Sherlock said exactly what he had in mind, letting the Royal mer maneuver him towards the bed of soft kelp. Goddess, he loved this man’s voice, his body tingling at the sound of the deep, husky baritone it took on from Sherlock’s likely arousal. John could already feel his erection nudging his slit, especially when he felt Sherlock’s fingers at his vent.

The Rural mer committed to their destination by pulling both of them down onto the bed of sea plants once they got there, engaging Sherlock’s lips in a fierce kiss. He could tell that Sherlock was inexperienced, though he didn’t know to what extent, so he did most of the leading. He hoped Sherlock had at least self explored enough to know that one was allowed to press and rub their vents, but inserting claws was generally risky business and could end up painful. Slits and cocks on the other hand..

John reached down and gently rubbed the pads of his fingers against Sherlock’s bulging slit in long stroking motions, against what he knew to be the length of Sherlock’s shaft under the skin. It was a technique that did well to coax out a mer’s erection and he hoped to do just that, continuing to kiss the Royal feverishly.

While Sherlock had expected his inexperience to give him a slight disadvantage, he hadn't expected John's touch to completely shut down his higher brain functions. Oh but it most certainly did. He cried out, mostly in shock of the overwhelming pleasure that shot through him as John stroke him into slipping free of his slit, the cool water on his cock making him gasp against John's mouth and jerk in his mate's arms.

He didn't know how to reciprocate let alone how to control his own reactions, instead digging his fingers into John's hips and holding on for dear life. His hyper awareness was narrowed down to the feel of John's intimate touch, the press of their mouths though the kiss was now woefully uncoordinated, and the kelp that rose to blanket their bodies, warming his already heated flesh.

"John," he moaned, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against the knotted flesh of his scar to take a moment to gather himself. He softened his grip a bit to swipe his thumbs over scales and skin, wherever he could reach. "I should probably warn you, as embarrassing as it is, that I have no prior experience of sex. Of, any of this, really." It was a good thing that John could not see Sherlock's face for he was unfortunately blushing.

John slowed his ministrations when he heard Sherlock’s words, the hand that had been stroking Sherlock’s cock backing off, the other reaching up to run his fingers through Sherlock’s curly hair as the Royal mer pressed his face into his shoulder.

He’d been aware of the other mer’s inexperience, so it really wasn’t all that surprising that he didn’t have any real experience with sex at all.  This was Sherlock after all. More likely than not, he’d been more interested in his own experiments when all the other mers were doing a different kind of experimenting. For John, it just meant he’d have to take things a little more slow and steady.

“That’s all right.. I can lead. There’s always a first time for everything, yeah?” He murmured in reply, carefully resuming his stroking along Sherlock’s shaft. “To start out, maybe just do what I’m doing to you. Start things slow. There’s really no rush.”

The Rural mur kissed the crown of Sherlock’s head before removing his fingers from the Sherlock’s hair so he could take one of his hands and press it to John’s bluging slit, encouraging him to copy, slowing his own movements so Sherlock could explore. “Just take your time.”

Sherlock found it odd how the desire to have the kelp around them suffocate him to end his embarrassment did nothing to douse his arousal. It said something about how neglected his body had been that he was still eagerly pressing against John's hand though now he didn't feel so overwhelmed. He could actually think.

"Yes. That's fine. Good," Sherlock said, letting John guide his hand down. He pushed the heel of his palm against the hard bulge, cataloging the different textures as he experimented with short circular motions in the hope of pleasing John. "I was just overwhelmed," he felt the need to add while nuzzling his nose along the edge of John's chaplet. He placed a kiss right between the gills on his neck.

When he could feel John start to finally slip free of his slit, Sherlock softened the press of his hand and concentrated rubbing his fingers over the thin patch of skin right under the slit where he himself was sensitive. His own sensitivity waned as he focused on John, but he still felt good, incredibly so, just no longer suddenly on the sharp edge of release. It was a much more manageable desperation and pleasure that ran under his veins.

"I want to mount you," he murmured, sliding his hand up now to caress the thick shaft of John's cock. "Will you let me do that, John?"

John nodded, shifting a little so his vent was lined up with the head of Sherlock’s cock. All the Royal had to do now was slide home. John decided he wanted Sherlock to do the honours though instead of taking full control. This was about consummating an equal partnership after all.

“I’d like that...” He breathed, kissing Sherlock again, this time softly, just tasting and teasing the other mer’s lips. It was still a little hard to believe that he was here, mating with Sherlock. He’d been mounted before, by both male and female mer alike and he always figured he’d find a mate someday. But for that person to be Sherlock, crazy, insane, gorgeous,fantastic amazing Sherlock... It almost felt like a dream.

The mer pressed into Sherlock’s hand, in part for pleasure, in part to remind himself that this was actually happening and it wasn’t all in his head. For a single moment he just wanted to say screw slow and steady and impale himself on Sherlock’s cock and shag himself stupid just to know it was real, but he held back. This was about their union.

Sherlock fought his baser instincts that were demanding he thrust and rut and bury himself in his mate. There was a soft expression on John's face that paused Sherlock however, one that he had never seen before. He lifted his hand to trace his finger tips over John's cheek, the crease of his brow, down to his soft, kiss reddened lips.

Later he would inquire just exactly what John was thinking to have him make that face, like he was awed or amazed but with something deeper etched there. For now Sherlock finally listened to the demands of his body. He cupped John's chin to draw his mate in for a tender kiss while pushing his hips up a and _oh._

Sherlock gasped on a full body shudder as he pushed inside John, immediately encompassed by tight heat. The hand on John's hip tightened, sharp claws scratching against the Rural's pale scales lightly. Sherlock's heart was pounding in his breast and he feared he might become overwhelmed again. Because it was John, his John, letting him do this, to join them. Once more he thought of human wine before his brain dissolved and coherent thought escaped him. There was only John.

The noise John made when Sherlock finally penetrated him was somewhere between a gasp and a moan. It had been a while since he’d had sex and there was much more emotional significance to this joining and for a moment his mind went blank. He was mating with Sherlock. Oh, Goddess.

Reclaiming his breath, the Rural mer gripped Sherlock’s shoulders, bucking his hips in a slow starting rhythm, his body shuddering as his mate slid in and out of his vent, causing delicious friction.The mer kissed and nipped at Sherlock’s collarbone and neck, feeling small rushes of water from the man’s gills on his face as he breathed.

John then looked up to meet the Royal mer’s eyes, to make sure he was all right and that this wasn’t too much or too fast, having almost forgotten so quickly that this was Sherlock’s first time. He pressed a careful kiss to Sherlock’s lips, his hands sliding from his shoulders to the tri-coloured mer’s back and fins. The kiss was more of a question if anything, a silent inquiry of if Sherlock was all right.

John moving against him was too much too soon, Sherlock not having enough time to adjust. He locked their tails to stop John from moving and barely registered John's kiss. His vision was cloudy when he met John's eyes and he was panting heavily. He just had enough wits to understand the question in the healer's eyes.

It took him a moment to regain control, slowly unlocking his tense muscles. He combed his fingers through John's hair as he unlocked their tails then gave John a slow nod. Experimentally, he rocked his hips back then forward, moaning at the sweet slide back into John's body.

It was like the sun itself was bursting under his scales, the pleasure he felt. He closed his eyes against the sensation, John's name slipping from his lips in a whispering gasp as he repeated the move. Slow and deep, they soon found their rhythm, then again, they always had fit together so well. It shouldn't surprise him that they would fit in this.

John let Sherlock take his time, doing his best to be patient then the other mer seemed overloaded by the stimulation. And once he was ready, oh Goddess, it was worth it. John let out a few pleasured gasps as Sherlock began to thrust in earnest, out right moaning when the pace was set, bucking into each of Sherlock’s thrusts.

Pleasure thrummed through him, his blood singing, barely able to get out Sherlock’s full name in his heated pants. Caressing the other mer’s back and the edge of his dorsal fins, John found his lips against the Royal mer’s jawline, tasting his skin before capturing his lips once more.

John’s cock was pressed between their stomachs, getting sporadic friction from their movements. In a way, it was a good thing he was bottoming, because he may just be making assumptions, but he had reason to believe that their coupling would be over rather quickly if Sherlock had been the one to experience what he was experiencing at that moment.

Sherlock wanted it to be good for John, but he had denied his body this basic need for too long for him to have any hope in making it last. He clutched and groped at John, trying to imprint the texture of John's scales and skin through his own flesh. The slap of their bodies coming together mixed with the sounds of their harsh panting creating an intimate symphony to their love making.

Sherlock still found himself on the edge of climax too soon. It would be so easy too, to just take what he needed and throw himself at the promised oblivion of release, but for once he wasn't thinking about himself. All of his effort, his many months of hunting down the perfect home for them to convince John he would he a worthy mate, all of that had been for John. Sherlock wasn't about to be completely selfish now.

With extreme care he forced a hand between their bodies to reach for John's turgid flesh. Even so, a sharp claw snagged on one of John's scales, making Sherlock break the desperate lock of their lips to mutter an apology as he wrapped his hand around John. Albeit awkwardly at first, he squeezed and stroke John in time to his thrusts, soon finding what worked for John. And he was so close himself, so very close, and knew that he would lose it the moment John did.

The sting of Sherlock’s claws was quickly wiped away when the other mer’s hand wrapped around his cock and suddenly John’s body was alight with dual pleasure. His pants turned into moans, his body unsure where to move at first but eventually managing to even it out. Liquid pleasure pooled in his belly, building up inside him, and he knew he wouldn’t last long.

The mer picked up their pace, rocking his hips faster, thrusting his vent down on Sherlock’s cock. His own cock sliding in the Royal mer’s hand, John curled his face into the crook of his mate’s neck as he felt himself getting closer and closer, his fingers still playing over Sherlock’s back.

And then it was too much. The heat coiled tightly in him snapped like a whip, the mer coming hard into the water, his vent clenching tightly around Sherlock’s cock. The Rural cried out in pleasure, barely able to even think. He’d always heard that consummating a bond tended to be so much more intense than normal sex, but he wasn’t sure he believed it until now. But now he definitely did, his vision blurring as he rode out his climax.

As expected, John's climax triggered Sherlock's own. He had watched, wide eyed and fascinated as his John shattered around him for as long as he could. John was positively magnificent in the throes of orgasm, giving Sherlock even more new expressions and sounds to commit to memory.

But he only had seconds to covet such reaction before his own climax slammed into him like a wave. Be it those beautiful reactions, or the tight clench of John's body around his cock, Sherlock didn't know. Likely the combination of was what had him throwing his head back, his spine arching in an elegant curve, as everything dissolved into sun bright pleasure.

It took John a while to come down from the pleasure high, his chest still heaving, as a small chuckle escaped his lips. He was mated. To Sherlock. Still a lot to get his head around.

Blinking a few more times, he looked up at his new mate’s face, a little worried to see the mer with a sort of jarred look on his face. Frowning, John reached up and gently patted the Royal’s face, only smiling when the mer finally came out of it, though worry still clung to his brow.

“Hey, you all right?” He asked, his smile soft as he cupped Sherlock’s cheek. It was very possible that Sherlock had been so completely blissed out that he’d lost all focus for a moment, especially considering that it had been his first time _and_ consummating their bond, but John just wanted to be sure. As a healer, he knew mer’s could hurt themselves in all sorts of ways (some of them really out there) while engaged in sexual activities, so he wasn’t going to take any chances.

Sherlock blinked when he came back to himself. For a few minutes there had been absolute silence in his mind. He had completely lost himself to sensation, becoming little aware of anything possibly for the first time in his life. And when everything did rush back, it felt like getting hit by a whale. Sherlock shuddered from head to tail then buried his face against John's shoulder, groaning in despair.

"No wonder nothing ever gets done. I feel like half of my brain has died. For a few minutes _Anderson_ was more intelligent than me," he complained, rolling his forehead along John's shoulder and likely suffering marks from digging his face against the Rural's chaplet. "Is sex always like that? I'm not sure if I'll survive it."

John chuckled, kissing the top of Sherlock’s head. “It can be, but even I admit that was a bit intense. I always thought the stories about how intense consummating a bond could be were just old fisherman’s tales, but I guess not.” The Rural mer blinked a few more times, still feeling like he was floating on a pleasant dream.

“But I don’t think it will always be like that... unless you want it to be, because there are ways to intensify and prolong sex, but usually it’s just wonderful, pleasurable easy fun. The fact that that was your first time probably had something to do with it too. I lasted all of ten minutes my first time, my first time being mounted, not even that.” The green and brown mer chuckled again, tipping Sherlock’s face up with a gentle hand and kissing him tenderly.

“But... it was good, wasn’t it? I mean, if it wasn’t something you enjoyed, though you fooled me if that is the case, then please tell me, all right? You aren’t obliged to have sex with me just because we’re mates now.” John ran his thumb over Sherlock’s smooth cheek, searching his eyes. He wanted to make sure everything was all right with his new mate first and foremost.

Sherlock's expression softened at John's misplaced concern. "You're worrying too much. It was fine. No, that's not the right word," he frowned, occupying himself with playing with the stones on John's chaplet as he searched for the right words. "I liked it. Very much so. But it was overwhelming. But I am sure it won't be as intense next time."

He did find some comfort in that, that he might not be reduced to a babbling idiot every time he had sex. Though he supposed it would be acceptable if it meant having that closeness with John. They had never been the type to shy from swimming close or touch if the situation called for it, but lying so close was new. And very enjoyable.

Sherlock rolled them so that he was on his back, John lying on his chest with the soft bedding beneath him. He then pushed his hand through John's hair to push the fringe from his eyes. John's eyes were darker after sex. The Royal found that he liked the shade very much.

"I like this, being close. And I like having sex with you. I just like being with you. I can't promise that I won't get distracted or find some things more interesting than sex, but you, you John Watson, will never fail to astound me."

John smiled as he listened to Sherlock stumble over his words. He didn’t mind so much. It was odd for Sherlock to fumble with things and John found it endearing to see him do so. He let the other mer finish though, settling on Sherlock’s chest when he rolled them and toying with the Royal’s chaplet, the blue mating stone especially. He glanced up when Sherlock finished, pushing up to kiss his mate.

“So nothing I’m not already used to then... except the sex bit, but you get the point. I know how you are. Sometimes, you drive me up a wall, but that’s still part of what I love about you. It’s always an adventure.” John told him, his tail swishing lazily as he traced Sherlock’s collarbone. “You’re an insane, wonderful, mad, amazing man, Sherlock and I’ve never been happier to be your mate.”

The mer settled his chin on Sherlock’s sternum, still awash in pleasant emotions. It still felt so unreal. Here he was, John Watson, Rural mer and a bit of a nobody, mated to the gorgeous, intelligent, eccentric Sherlock Holmes, lounging in post-cotial bliss. He blinked once before smiling and shaking his head. “Today did not turn out how I expected... not in a bad way either... quite the opposite actually. I don’t think my mind has quite accepted that all this has actually happened yet.”

Sherlock smirked as he combed his fingers through John's hair. He always did have an odd fascination with the tawny colour. It wasn't a very common colour under the sea, even among the bland coloured Rurals. He loved that about John though, how extraordinary such a seemingly ordinary mer was.

"Then you can help me finish decorating once you've rested, now that you know about the cave and all. Perhaps that will convince you that you are not suffering a delusion," Sherlock teased, leaning up for another kiss.

Now kissing Sherlock definitely liked. It wasn't overwhelming at all and very enjoyable. It allowed him to be close and intimate with John without being overwhelmed. Yes, very enjoyable indeed.

John smiled against Sherlock’s lips, rolling his eyes a little. He actually did plan on helping Sherlock finish the cave, since it was sort of theirs now anyway. This was.. nice, even if it had been so sudden. Other pressing thoughts, like how he was going to have to inform everyone of where he was going to be living now and whether or not they wanted to have a celebration, and how he was going to have to tell his family and all that, but he pushed it away for the time being.

Well, he made a note that the first people he should tell where he was now living should be Greg and Mycroft. He’d promised Greg he’d help with the birth of their first brood if it was needed and Greg would probably appreciate knowing his new location when Mycroft went into labour. But he didn’t need to do that right this minute.

No, right now, he was just going to relax and cuddle with his mate and not worry about anything. The mer nuzzled Sherlock’s pale throat, his mind idling as he just dozed. “Hm.. I’ll help.. just as you said... after a rest.” He murmured, closing his eyes and just enjoying his mate’s warmth.


	4. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it's time for Greg and Mycroft's brood to be born, nothing seems to be going right.

“I’ll throw in one of these if you give me an extra jar of minnows.” Greg pulled the shiny red and blue aluminium can out of his bag to wave at Larry the vendor’s face. The can was quickly snatched away to be inspected, likely for the removable tab thing that seemed popular lately. A human’s trash was a mer’s treasure.

“Deal,” Larry grinned toothily, thus concluding their haggling. Greg felt like he got a good deal, a whole net worth of fish and three jars of minnows for the fry once they came. Should be any day now and Greg wanted to be ready for them, even if Mycroft thought he was being overzealous with the minnows. Mycroft was raised off of cut up bits off of larger fish, Greg had been born chasing minnows the moment he left his father’s pouch.

“It’s a shame though, you know. Here we are trading with human stuff while they keep snatching our young.” Greg looked up from his mesh bag to frown at the tan and orange Rural, his hand wrapped around a narrow bottle that wasn’t much good to him but Larry sure found uses for it.

“But no more than usual, right?” Larry shook his head.

“You haven’t heard? There’s been a big number this summer. At least seven’s gone missing in the past week from the northern territories. Mostly Royals, I hear. We’ve lost a few ourselves just last month. Three sisters even,” Larry said, nodding his grey streaked head solemnly.

Greg swallowed past a lump, his stomach feeling hollow with dread at the news. That definitely did not sound right at all but with Mycroft due any day; Greg had been out of the loop and would be needed at the cave for a few days, thus the trip to market.

“Keep me informed, yeah? When I have the time I’ll look into it. Right now I get to get back to Myc,” he said, exchanging his goods for the food that should keep his family fed until he had time to go back into the waters and fish himself. Larry gave him a sharp nod as he added the jars to Greg’s bag.

“Of course. You have your own young ones, or will, to worry about though. Get back to your brood old man.” Greg wanted to point out that Larry wasn’t much younger but settled for flicking his tail at the mer as he swam away. He had a lot to think about on the way home.

Mycroft groaned, screwing his thumbs into his back. Everything was achy and he felt stretched and it was a little ungainly to get around now that he was in his fifth and final month of pregnancy. And this was a small brood. He and Greg had decided it was probably two, John checking in once to basically confirm it, though he did warn them not to be surprised if there was a smaller third as that could happen sometimes.

Mycroft grimaced as he sluggishly swam back to bed, letting himself drift down into the mass of soft plants as he ran his fingers over the stretched reddish-pink skin of his pouch, noticing how restless the little ones were within. He could feel them wiggling and moving around from the outside and could occasionally see movement, but apparently since the brood was so small, his pouch wasn’t so stretched to where he could see and feel movement easily like other mers could.

The Royal closed his eyes a moment, trying to relax. He shouldn’t be complaining so much. His brood was small. He wasn’t going through the stress that a mer carrying broods of five or six were. He had it easy. But it didn’t feel like it though. Right now it ached.

It had been a fairly straightforward pregnancy with no complications. Mycroft’s small brood had been a saving grace of sorts when it came to his work at the palace, his smaller pouch less conspicuous to visiting delegates. Makos tended to be disturbed by his own race’s breeding habits, the sharkish mer-like beings put off by the males carrying the broods. Mako females carried the broods, the society patriarchal versus the Mer’s matriarchal one.

Mycroft leaned his head back, trying not to think about politics. He hadn’t been at the palace for a few weeks now, getting around outside the cave having become too ungainly for him. Not that he wanted to leave anyway. With the fry on the way, he wanted to be as close to home as possible, no interest in going out whatsoever.

He had felt the need to collect kelp in the last week or so, but hadn’t ventured out, finally asking Greg to bring him some which he’d used to form their bed into a more comfortable nest like structure resting in it more and more often the closer he got to birthing their offspring.

Getting comfortable as he could, the mer dozed, one hand pressed over his pouch. Greg was out getting food to prepare for the possible wait and when the fry finally arrived but Mycroft wasn’t too worried. He would be back soon.

Greg heard Mycroft's groans at the mouth of the cave, his worried thoughts about missing mers momentarily forgotten. He always went soft when he heard the pained sounds of his mate, sympathetic to Mycroft's plight.

"Any day now they will be out and you'll find yourself wishing you can put them back," he said with a soft chuckle as he shrugged off his bag.

The fish went straight into the trap he made when he first got the cave fixed up, a basket of sorts of seaweed and wire with a self-latching lid. He had a trick for getting the fish in without any escaping, though it always made him feel good about himself when he did it anyways.

"Oh, and I got a few jars of minnows. I don't care what you say, I was raised on them the first few months and I turned out fine. Better than." He looked over his shoulder as he put them up on a rock shelf, giving Mycroft a defiant look.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. They were not getting into the minnow versus chopped fish argument again. They were feeding their young bits of larger fish, he didn’t care what Greg said at this point. Taking the flesh off of big fish meant a lack of bones and thus a lack of choking. Minnows were riddled with tiny bones.

“Whatever you say love, I’m still feeding them my way so they don’t choke themselves. You find a way to de-bone minnows and then we’ll talk.” Mycroft rolled on his side, watching Greg swim around the cave as he gently stroked his pouch in an attempt to calm their brood.

“They’re fairly active today and nothing I do seems to calm them down.” He confessed with a sigh. Mainly hoping that he’d earn himself a pouch rub. Greg was always so fascinated when the fry moved around a lot and he was fun to watch reacting to either children moving around under his hands.

The mer winced as he felt a sharp kick of a tail to his stomach, his discomfort visible for a moment. He doubted he’d want them back in like Greg had jokingly said. As long as he wasn’t sore and uncomfortable, he would be able to manage. Trying to relax again, he rubbed soothing circles on his pouch and waited hopefully for Greg to join him.

Greg gave the last jar a pointed tap, his fry was going to do just fine on them, he will prove it, then swam to the bed. It was still odd to see Mycroft with all his guards down, his usually stoic face twisted with pain and discomfort almost constantly now. It stirred up Greg’s protective side, not that he had any qualms settling into the nest of kelp behind Mycroft. He was rather fond of doting on his mate, actually.

“Well, John did say it’s to be expected,” he said gently, sliding his hand around the bulging pouch so he could rub his palm where Mycroft complained ached the most. “Them being so close to coming and all. So restless is a good thing even though I know they’re battering at you from the inside.”

Greg shifted them enough to get his other arm around Mycroft, careful of his fins, just so he could rest his palm over where he felt one of them squirming around. Feeling his children move, sometimes seemingly pushing back against his hand deliberately, would never cease to astound him.

“But it does seem like you’re in more pain today than usual. You sure everything’s going alright?” He asked with a kiss to Mycroft’s shoulder. Mycroft had had a flawless pregnancy, according to John and small broods were usually blessings when it came to labour. Still, something seemed off with how Mycroft had been carrying himself that day, then again, it wasn’t like Greg was a healer.

Mycroft shifted, taking a deep breath before settling against Greg, his dorsal fins pressed down against his back. The pregnant mer closed his eyes, trying to focus on how he was feeling.

“I’m not sure. It might be. It’s all blurring together at this point.” He replied with a sigh, grimacing again. Maybe it _was_ worse than usual today. “I suppose it might be..” Mycroft just took a moment to think, something niggling at the back of his mind.

“Gregory, I’m fairly sure John mentioned something about a colour change. Maybe..” Mycroft made a discomforted noise and turned back on his back, placing both of his hands on his pouch. He glanced at Greg, looking a little nervous. He was definitely feeling uncomfortable right now, an ache forming in his back. “Can you tell if there’s anything different?”

“Yeah,” Greg said slowly, confirming that John had mentioned that the vent would change to the color of the pouch, if not brighter, when the brood was ready to come out. He didn’t move immediately to check though, suddenly hit with the real possibility that their fry would be coming soon, if not that night. Just thinking that they were about to become parents made his mind stutter to a stop. Did they have enough fish? Kelp? Were they ready?

Luckily his crisis didn’t last too long. Mycroft could just be experiencing pre labour pain without being about to give birth, but Greg wouldn’t know until he checked. Giving a bit of a kick, he moved up then twisted around to check Mycroft’s vent, and immediately froze. Sure enough he was greeted with a bright, reddish pink patch of skin, indicating where Mycroft’s vent was, and also alerting that the brood was coming whether they were ready or not.

“So, that back pain you’ve been complaining about this morning...” Greg trailed off, eyes wide as he watched the small ones squirm under the skin of the pouch, much lower than usual, he noted. Right near that brightly coloured vent. “You think maybe it’s been contractions. Cause uh... there is definitely a change of colour.” If his voice sounded a little strained, hopefully Mycroft didn’t notice.

Mycroft took a deep breath of water, closing his eyes as he nodded. That made sense. The fry were going to be here soon and honestly, he didn’t know what to think of that. He would be fine though. John had assured him that small broods were usually rather easy to birth, his body made to bear many more than two or three.

He shifted in his nest, turning on his side again to try to get more comfortable. The fry were restless, like John said they might be while he was in labour. The Royal took several deep breaths, the ache getting more noticeable.

“It seems like this is it.” He said quietly, shifting in the nest again, still not able to get comfortable. He was excited and nervous at the same time. They were likely going to be parents by the end of the night, Mycroft eager about having their brood out in the world, but anxious about the process it would take. He supposed that was normal to feel though.

“I’m just uncomfortable at the moment but John did say things might go quickly...” Mycroft grit his teeth as a full contraction gripped him, his pouch tightening painfully. At first that made him panic until he assured himself that the fry weren’t coming right that very minute and that his body had been working up to this and it would still take time. Still, his heart was racing and he had to remind himself to breathe. He didn’t realise this would be so nerve wracking.

Greg was at Mycroft's side immediately when he stopped talking in a middle of a sentence with a pained expression. As per John's orders, he coaxed Mycroft into a more upright position to get him off his back, and hold his mate firmly. He didn't know what to do from there though, whether if he should or even could give him a pouch rub during the contractions.

"That's it, love. Just breathe through it. Remember your body knows how to do this, the fry know what to do. You just got to let it happen," he said softly, opting to rub Mycroft's chest and arms.

It amazed him how calm he sounded when he felt like he was on the verge of panicking. He had been in several tricky situations before and outside of Sherlock's damn pranks; he was not prone to losing his head in situations. But he gave himself some leeway because they were about to become parents and to him that was a bloody big deal.

Mycroft appreciated Greg’s support immensely, his mate offering him a comforting distraction. The Royal mer leaned his head back against Greg’s chest, just trying to focus on the Rural’s presence and listen to his soothing words, panting when the contraction finally released him. Mycroft’s muscles were able to relax a little after that, leaning heavily on the man he loved.

However, the mer’s skin flushed as he felt a weighty pressure coming down near his vent. The pressure itself only added to his discomfort and he was utterly embarrassed that he’d seemed to have developed an erection, his cock slipping free from his slit. He wasn’t actually the least bit aroused and figured it must be the blood flow and increase in pressure that had caused it, but that still didn’t make any less embarrassing.

The elder Holmes tried to settle a little with little success, feeling another slow swell of a contraction coming on. Honestly, he just wanted to get this over with now that he was coming to grips with the fact that he was in labour and there was no backing out, but John had said it could be fast or that it could take time. Every mer was different. Mycroft found himself praying to the Goddess that his labour went quickly.

When Mycroft tensed, Greg had leaned to the side to see if he could catch Mycroft giving birth and instead caught a different kind of eye full. He blinked at the confusing display then slowly righted himself so he wasn't staring at it. He couldn't help but be confused though, frowning at the back of Mycroft's head.

"Uh love... Hate to break it to you but I don't think now's a good time to have sex," he said as kindly as he could. Hey, each mer was their own. He wasn't one to judge.

“I’m _not aroused!_ ” Mycroft snapped, digging his claws into the kelp nest below him as his body tensed for another contraction.

“I’m... It’s not... It’s the pressure-” He was cut off as the contraction claimed him, causing him to grunt with pain as he pressed the back of his head heavily against Greg’s chest. The pressure only got worse, there being no give or slip, leaving Mycroft wondering if he was supposed to push or not. He knew enough about the birthing process that he was supposed to feel the fry move down into his birth canal, which he hadn’t yet. It would probably just take some time, but he wished that didn’t have to be the case.

“It’s the pressure and probably the increased blood flow down there. I can’t help it...” He finally explained as he settled back into Greg’s comforting arms. “I’m not aroused by pain of this degree at all, or anything about this. I just want it to be over.” The mer shifted, grimacing as it didn’t seem to help at all. He’d start to need to push soon enough; he just needed to be patient.

Greg winced, thoroughly chastised. "I'll just not say anything that isn't comforting reminders to breathe or push, yeah?"

He rubbed a soothing hand over Mycroft's arm as the Royal shifted, wishing he could do more to help. Seeing as how he was pretty sure he'd never be in Mycroft's position, he feared he would never fully understand the pain and discomfort Myc was suffering. Even so, if he could take even half the pain from his mate, he would.

"It won't be much longer," he soothed, deciding it shouldn't hurt to reach lower to rub the top swell of Mycroft's stomach.

He felt the kick of a tail swish at his palm, but at least it meant the little one had flipped upside down like they should. Though when he moved his palm a little lower, instead of encountering the second tail under the pouch, he was pretty sure he felt a head. Again, not being a healer he didn't know for sure, but he thought with Mycroft experiencing contractions that they all should be flipped upside down by then.

When the next contraction came, Mycroft finally felt the need to push, but it wasn’t pleasant. The mer bore down, gripping the kelp like it was his anchor, his neck muscles bulging as he grit his teeth from the strain.

Nothing happened.

Mycroft continued to try to push, clenching his muscles and bearing down like John had told him to. Nothing moved. He didn’t feel the head descending or any sort of downward movement. After trying to push several more times with no results other than pain, Mycroft started to panic.

The mer’s breathing became rapid as fear clutched him, his hands going up and back, scrambling and trying to find Greg with them. Trying to find something to hold on to. Finally, the mer turned over, moaning in pain as he held himself up by Greg’s shoulders and tried to push again. Nothing. Now in true panic, he looked up and met Greg’s eyes, the fear clear in them.

“Greg, get John. Now. Something’s.. Something’s wrong.”

Greg's immediate response was to panic, but Mycroft was already past that point and Greg knew he had to be the strong one. He swallowed down the cold fear that threatened to well up and choked him and managed not to immediately demand what Mycroft meant by something was wrong. Greg's instincts told him that Mycroft was right and he did not need to waste time in getting John.

"Okay. It's okay. I'm going to help you to the shelf here where I want you to brace yourself, alright? Just concentrate on breathing, okay? I'll get John here as fast as I can," he said, calm despite his pounding heart.

He helped Mycroft up to brace against the shelf that he had carved into the wall right above their nest. Once he felt Mycroft had a good hold of it, he kissed Mycroft's temple then dashed out of the cave and set for John's. He never swam faster in his life.

Mycroft watched Greg leave, getting his grip on the shelf as another painful contraction wrapped around his pouch, the mer barely able to keep himself from crying out. The pain was only getting worse and worse as the pressure increased.

The Royal wrestled with the contractions as they came, occasionally trying to push in the hope that it would do something. But Goddess, it hurt. His whole body was trembling, his arms shaking severely as he tried to keep himself braced. He had to stay strong.

Then, suddenly, he felt an extreme pain lower down, making him feel like he was being ripped in half. The mer could barely breathe in his anguish, his eyes clenched shut. And when he opened them, his heart almost stopped as he watched a curl of blood gush up from his vent.

Greg thanked the Goddess when he heard John and Sherlock's voices in their cave when he arrived, out of breath with a sore tail from having swam so fast. But he didn't have time to catch his breath, not when every moment mattered. He barged right in, no knock or warning, not caring how he might have found them.

"John. It's Mycroft. I need you," he panted harshly with a hand to the wall to give himself at least a second of a rest. At least it looked like he had just interrupted a discussion over some human looking contraption in Sherlock's hand. He didn't feel a lick of guilt for interrupting.

"He's in labour but when he pushes there nothing but pain. It's like they can't get out. You have to come," he pleaded, even though he knew John would.

John looked a little startled when suddenly, Greg was in their cave, but when he heard the explanation, something switched over in his mind. Medical emergency. Mycroft was experiencing pain with no results while in childbirth.

“We need to get back to him quickly then. Give me a moment to get my things.” John glanced back at his mate as he hurriedly gathered together his medical supplies into his satchel. Sherlock looking calm, but his eyes held his worry. “It may take a while for me to be back, but your brother doesn’t need more people around than there has to be if he’s in pain and struggling.” Sherlock frowned.

“I’m still coming. I’ll stay out of your way.” The Royal replied swimming after them. “I won’t even be in the cave.” John sighed but didn’t say anything else, swimming out into the darkened waters, parts of the reef glowing eerily from bioluminescence. They needed to hurry. He looked to Greg as they swam back. “Can you tell me anything else you might have noticed? Like did his vent not change colour, or anything else odd? I’ll be able to help him better if I already have an idea what’s going on when we get there.”

Greg slowed down so they could keep up. He didn’t really fancying trying to have a conversation though, but he knew it was important. Problem was he could barely think above getting back to his mate.

“Um...” he racked his brain, scraping his fingers through his hair as he swam around Sherlock’s bloody garden and the little fish it attracted. “The vent changed, yeah.” He focused on swimming for a moment, just trying to think. “Oh! I was rubbing his pouch when I thought something was odd. I felt one of their tails high up, meaning she was flipped down like you said they should be, but I think I also felt a head. I don’t know if that’s important though.”

“Damn, yeah, that is important. We need to hurry.” John sped up, swimming towards Greg and Mycroft’s cave, knowing Greg would likely be quick on his tail. Sherlock was rather fast himself so he wouldn’t be far behind. The healer was fairly sure he knew what this was and if they didn’t hurry, things could get messy quickly. He just hoped they got there in time.

Fate was at least kind in letting them get to the cave without hindrance. But that was quickly thrown right back in his face when they got to the cave and encountered one of the worse sights he could imagine. Right at the mouth of their cave was a bloody sandbar shark, but the reason why it was nosing about his him was much more terrifying. He didn't need the evidence of the shark to smell Mycroft's blood in the water.

"John! Get to Mycroft. I'll handle the shark." Despite the fear that was racing through him, his protective instincts kicked in and all he knew was that he had to protect his family, refusing to think of any other outcome. For all he knew he was sending John and Sherlock into a den of sharks, but he wasn't going to let his mind give that further thought.

The thing about sandbars was that they weren't very smart and didn't respond well to threats. It turned its attention on his the moment he got close. It was a small one at least, hardly a threat. The only problem was that it was between him and his mate.

"Come on you thick bastard," he growled, inching back slowly to get it away from the mouth of the cave. Greg got it far enough where it was no longer a threat to his home and stopped, letting it come at him. Sharks were fast, especially small ones, but he was ready. When it got right in biting distance, he hauled his fist back and punched it square on its damn nose, not even feeling the scrape of the rough textures of its skin on his knuckles.

The shark immediately turned tail and ran. Greg floated there for a minute, adrenaline going straight to his head and making him dizzy. He had to catch his breath before he even turned towards the cave. Now that the rush was waning, fear gripped him once more in a tight, suffocating grip. Anything could have happened in the time he had been gone and he honestly didn't know if he wanted to go in there.

Sherlock made the decision for him, darting over and grabbing him by the arm. "Did the shark eat your brain, Lestrade? Get in there!" Greg found himself unable to do anything but follow.

By the time John finally came through the mouth of the cave, Mycroft thought he was going to die. Since the first gush of blood, the pain had only increased among other things, his throat now sore from crying out. He’d lost his grip on the shelf long ago, sliding down to the cave floor, now halfway propped up on the wall, but mostly laying on his side.

He had made some progress though, if you could call it that. Not long after he’d seen blood, he’d started to feel a slide, albeit a very painful one. He’d still pushed though, something finally sliding from his vent, though not completely. When he’d reached down, he’d felt scales and fins, only hazily realising the tail had come out first and was wiggling uncoordinatedly.

He’d tried pushing the fry the rest of the way out, with little luck, only exhausting himself, the little one still partially stuck inside him. So he’d tried to rest, the contractions painful.

The Royal mer felt a rush of relief when he saw the healer, knowing his mate would follow soon after. Things were still rather blurry and he was having trouble focusing on anything but the pain. John was quickly at his side though, reaching out to sooth him and prop him up, his claws filed down to healer’s nubs. Mycroft grimaced but didn’t say anything as John started talking.

“Mycroft? You’re having a breech birth. It can happen sometimes. Once Greg gets in here to get you in a better position, I’m going to have to reach in and lead the fry out. It’s probably not going to be very pleasant I’m afraid, but it’s needed.” Mycroft just nodded. Anything would be better than thing anguish. “In the meantime, I need you to take this. It will help with the pain.”

Mycroft felt some slick plants pressed against his lips, which he took into his mouth, ignoring the flavour as he chewed and swallowed. Whatever helped. He just wanted Greg.

“What can I do?” Greg asked immediately when he managed to get Sherlock to let go of his arm, swimming right for his mate. He stopped with a jerk though when he caught sight of Mycroft’s stomach, his eyes bugging out at the sight of the little tail wiggling out of Mycroft’s vent. “Hello... Even I know that’s not normal.”

“I’m fairly sure he knows that already. Could you get behind him and support him. I need him laying out. He’s not going to like this much, so he’s going to need the comfort.” John told Greg, waving him over with a sense of urgency. He needed to get the fry out before Mycroft hurt himself any more than he already had, or injured the child. “Mycroft, Greg’s going to get behind you. I’m going to need you not to push unless I say so, do you think you can do that?”

“I think so.” He managed, feeling a little better to see his mate. At this point, he needed the man with him if he was going to do this. On his own, he’d felt so weak. The mer tried to push himself more upright, the pain only swelling again. He tried not to think about the fact there was at least one more fry to come. He was already so tired.

Greg was behind Mycroft in a sudden burst of eddies, steady arms wrapping around Mycroft from behind. "I got you Myc. Don't worry about putting all your weight on me. I got you," Greg said as soothingly as he could through the lump in his own throat. The scent of blood was still in the water and he was trying very hard not to think what that meant.

With a nod from John he settled Mycroft where the healer wanted him, holding Myc in place with his tail moored in the kelp and send beneath them to steady his mate. He coaxed Mycroft to grab onto his hands, letting him have something to squeeze onto. "I'm right here Myc. Everything is going to be alright." He was looking at John pleadingly as he spoke, praying to the Goddess that he hadn't just lied to his mate.

John met Greg’s eyes and nodded. Things should be all right if he hurried, but it wouldn’t be pleasant for Mycroft. Once he was sure the Royal mer was in the best position he could be in, the healer reached out and carefully grasped the fry’s tail, stilling it. He glanced up at the pair, smiling slightly.

“It’s a boy.” He told them quietly, carefully slipping his fingers into the mer’s vent beside the fry. “Now we just need to get him out. Mycroft, this is going to be uncomfortable, but I’m going to tell you to push in a moment and you’re going to need to, even if it hurts, okay?”

Mycroft tensed up as John slipped one hand into his vent, the other manoeuvring the fry from the outside. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but the Royal mer grit his teeth, gripping Greg’s hands and just trying to breathe. He wanted it to stop. Just wanted the little one out. Oh, Goddess, it hurt. His flesh felt like it was on fire, his eyes squeezed shut. More blood drifted up in the water, Mycroft not noticing this time. John glanced up at Greg, trying to silently assure him that was expected.

Greg sucked in his breath through his teeth when another plume of blood welled up. Though John’s look was one of reassurance, it didn’t calm him in the least bit. If one little shark found them by tracking Mycroft’s scent, then there was the very real possibility of other predators coming after them when they were all so vulnerable. With Mycroft’s death grip on his hands and the fact that Greg was needed right where he was, there was nothing he could do to protect his family.

“Sherlock, you do know how to use a harpoon, don’t you?”

“Of course I know how...” Sherlock started haughtily but Greg didn’t have the patience for his arrogance.

“Good. Grab the one over there by the coral. You’re standing watch.” He didn’t elaborate any further; Mycroft didn’t need to know that he had already attracted sharks to their cave. Still, the threat itself wasn’t something he could cover up for Mycroft’s sake, not with the risks.

For once, Sherlock actually did what Greg told him too without an argument. That alone worried him.

Mycroft didn’t even notice the exchange. As the fry began to move, he couldn’t stop himself from crying out, pain stabbing through him. The need to push was coming back again, but he manage to hold back, remembering what John had said. The little boy shifted again as John coaxed the tiny mer out carefully. Finally, the healer looked up.

“Mycroft, I need you to push now. You’re almost there, I promise.” The Royal mer, gripped Greg’s hands even harder as he bore down, pain lancing through him as his muscles spasmed around his child and John’s hands. The mer’s voice rang out, loud and harsh as the rest of his child’s body slipped from his vent. Without even thinking, he gave one more heavy push and the little boy was free, Mycroft’s cry breaking as his son was suddenly in John’s hands.

“How is he?” Mycroft eventually managed, his mind so mixed up with so many things, it was all he could think to say as he watched the healer clean the tiny mer.

“He’s fine. Cute little devil. You should have a lull in your contractions so you can hold him for a bit while I clean you up. You’ve still got...” John pressed his hands carefully over Mycroft’s pouch, nodding. “One more to go. Thankfully in the right position too. I’m just going to put a salve on and in your vent. It’ll help with the pain and help you clot. This little guy probably nicked you up pretty good coming out backwards like that.”

John handed the wiggly little boy to his birthing father after cleaning out his gills, letting the new parents bond with their son while he tended to Mycroft’s abused lower half.

Greg forgot to breathe for a moment as he stared at his son with wonder. The first thing he saw was a shock of unruly brown hair that floated about his head manically. Greg had to crane his neck to see him properly over Mycroft’s shoulder, getting a good look at his scales as well. The tiny little boy had brown and purple scales, dark enough for him to blend in among the reefs and not be too flashy, but the purple was definitely a touch of flair.

But his appearance didn’t matter because he was healthy and lively, wriggling in Mycroft’s arms like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to get closer to his parents or swim off likely in the search of food. But he had the most open expression, a Holmes by far with the big round eyes like he found everything to be fascinating.

“Goddess he’s gorgeous. And he’s fine, right? I mean, he looks fine. He looks like he’s giving you a fight to keep hold of him,” he said to Mycroft, nuzzling against the mer’s cheek without taking his eyes off his son. The little boy tried to flip around though it didn’t look like he knew what his tail was for and next Greg knew he was laughing when his son bared his teeth at his own tail. He was definitely going to be trouble.

“It seems so..” Mycroft blinked at the little boy in his arms, his thoughts finally coming around, a smile curling on his lips. They had a son. The little mer wiggled and squirmed, Mycroft not quite sure how to hold him and smiling even more when the child seemed to take offense with his tail. He could already see so much of his mate in the boy, and maybe a little of himself. His colouring was definitely interesting.

John looked up at Greg’s words, his fingers carefully coating Mycroft’s raw opening with a jelly-like substance. “He’s fine. His gills are clear and blood-rich, which is good. Really good considering he was stuck like he was.” The healer smiled at the three of them before returning to what he was doing. “So, what are you going to name the little guy?”

Mycroft glanced up at Greg, nodding. They were going to have to choose one of the few boys names they had picked out, having several ready, just in case there had been three and they were all male. They had also had a similar system for the female names. Mycroft picked the first that came to mind. It seemed to fit their son too, if he was completely honest. “Tobias?”

At that their son flared out his thin arm, making it look like he was attacking his own hair. Greg buried his laughter in Mycroft’s shoulder, using the opportunity to place a kiss there. Though he was still very aware that things were not over yet, he couldn’t help feeling over the moon. At least they looked like they were out of the real trouble.

“Little Toby. I like it. Maybe the other one will be Caedmon,” he said, reaching around Mycroft to trail his knuckle down Tobias’ cheek. And almost lost his finger when his son turned his head with break neck speed to try and snap at Greg’s finger. Luckily Greg was still slightly faster. He was a hungry one alright.

“What about the other one, John? I think this whole ordeal has left at least this one hungry and I fear for our fingers if I don’t get a chance to feed him soon.”

John wiped his fingers off on a cloth before carefully pressing his hands to Mycroft’s still swollen pouch before nodding and looking back up to address the pair.

“He or she should be here soon. They’ve moved down against Mycroft’s canal. So he should be feeling the contractions starting up again soon.” He then looked more directly at Mycroft. “This time it should be much easier, though I’m not going anywhere since you did sustain some damage from Toby there coming out like he did and it might cause a little more bleeding so just to be safe. As for him, he’s hungry, but a little nap won’t hurt until his little brother or sister is born. If you carefully stroke him down the spine, he should drift off, but I’m told that they grow out of that trick very quickly, so don’t get your hopes up.”

The Royal mer nodded, his pouch already feeling a little tighter. The man did as John instructed, carefully running his fingers down his tiny son’s back, smiling when the boy seemed to calm down and slowly shut his eyes. He was sure there was some reason behind why they did that, but he wasn’t going to question it just then.

Mycroft glanced up at Greg once more, a soft smile on his face before he gently nestled their son in the kelp nest beside him, his chest feeling tight. To think that was his child. His son. It was wonderful.

Greg stared at their son thinking how he caused all that trouble but now was sleeping peacefully like nothing had went wrong. Goddess he was perfect. Things weren't over yet though, he knew, so he slid his hands down Mycroft's arms to give him something to grasp on to.

"I love you, you know that? You're doing great love. It's almost over," he said encouraging, trying his best to be there for Mycroft during what had to be the hardest day of his life. Seeing Mycroft in so much pain was heart-breaking. He never heard Mycroft in such agony that he screamed like that and Greg never wanted to again if he could help it. He prayed it was just because of the breech birth because he didn't want to hear Mycroft suffer through the next one.

It was just their luck though, he thought, that Mycroft would have such an easy pregnancy then a hard labour even though it should have gone smoothly with such a small brood. Definitely their luck.

“I hope to Goddess it is...” Mycroft murmured as he settled back in his mate’s arm, gently clasping the Rural mer’s hands. He could feel the slow swell of another contraction, the feeling now familiar, though no less comfortable.

The mer made a discomforted noise through his teeth, trying to breathe. His pouch tightened fully, making him close his eyes and try to focus on something else. His vent was still throbbing, though whatever John had put on it helped some. The healer was looking up at him, carefully assessing him and obviously aware he was having another contraction.

“Mycroft, you’re doing great. If they’re coming at that intensity, your little one should be here soon. Just focus on your breathing and let me know when you start feeling the need to push again.” John instructed, just hovering a bit. If things went well for this one, he wouldn’t need to interfere, but he was going to stay around after to do a final check on the fry and give Mycroft a better painkiller after he was sure nothing would get infected.

Greg pressed a kiss to Mycroft's hairline when he felt the Royal's body tense up then shudder with pain. "Just a little bit longer love. Then you can sleep, I promise. I'll take care of the wee ones while you rest. Can't see me slipping them minnows when you're sleeping." He was jesting to distract Mycroft with levity but he did mean it about the minnows. Right then tearing up a fish and adding more blood to the water just sounded like a bad idea of bad ideas.

He looked up though when movement at the mouth of the cave caught his attention. Sherlock had swam back in with the harpoon and a severe look. He quickly flashed three fingers at Greg, silently reporting that he had seen three sharks. Greg gave a curt nod and closed his eyes to send a quick prayer to the Goddess. When he opened his eyes again Sherlock was gone.

Mycroft nodded as he listened to John’s words before closing his eyes a moment and trying relaxing in Greg’s arms. He was already so tired. A nice long sleep after all of this sounded perfect, Goddess knew, he needed it.

The mer tensed again as another contraction came, holding on to Greg’s hands a little more tightly. They were coming rather quickly, not building up how they had in the beginning before Toby had caused problems. For that, he was actually thankful, not thinking he or his body could handle the whole process again.

After wrestling with a few more contractions, he felt a pressure like he had last time, though this time it definitely felt different. He grit his teeth, feeling a give, the head pushing into his canal. It still hurt, but it wasn’t the agonising, dagger sharp pain he’d felt originally. It made him feel the need to push. His voice strained, he leaned back into Greg heavily as he informed his mate and the healer. “I can feel the head.... I need to push.”

John nodded. “You’re doing fine; just follow your body’s instincts.”

Acknowledging John’s words, Mycroft took a deep breath, gripped Greg’s hands firmly, and bore down and pushed.

“Poseidon’s trident,” Greg cursed under his breath as he watched over Mycroft’s shoulder. What he thought was another plume of blood actually proved to be a shock of bright red hair followed by the rest of the baby’s head. It was really weird to watch the baby come out, it just seemed so impossible for something of that size to squeeze out of a tiny slit in Mycroft’s pouch. And painful. Mycroft’s bone breaking grip on Greg’s hands attested to that.

“Wow, look at that.” The baby popped free with a small kick of her tail, and Greg was pretty sure his little baby was a girl, then landed right in John’s arms. Her red and green scales glittered in the low light of the cave, her Royal blood unmistakable. She wasn’t nearly as wiggly as Toby, seemingly content to cuddle into the warmth of another body. Then she turned around in John’s arms with a sleepy little toothy yawn and Greg was already wrapped around her little finger.

“Oh Myc, look at her. I’m pretty sure she’s a her. John, she check out alright? Goddess she’s beautiful. What are we naming her, love?”

John smiled down as the little fry basically landed in his arms. Yes, there was a definite lack of a vent, so she was a girl. Her birth had also proved to be much easier on Mycroft as well.

"She looks alright to me." He told her parents, cleaning and checking the little girl's gills. " You can definitely tell who she takes after." He chuckled, finally handing the baby to her parents. The little mer blinked, wiggling a little as she was slipped into Mycroft's arms.

The Royal mer, having just caught his breath, looked down at her for a long moment, receiving a similar stare right back. Her colouring was so close to his own, the sprinkle of green standing out against what he knew to be his own red, her hair matching his own as well. Finally, he blinked, smiling down at her before looking back up to his mate.

"Sorry, got a little distracted there for a moment. I didn't expect her to have so many of my own features." He told Greg quietly before turning a little and slipping their daughter into his mate's arms. "She does need a name though, doesn't she? I know we talked about Marella, but.... I can't help but see her as a Muirenn. What do you think?"

Careful not to disturb Toby, especially since Greg just knew he was a biter, he turned so he could cradle the little girl into his chest to keep her secure. He probably made an embarrassing cooing sound when she cuddled up against him. Her tiny little scales were slightly cool on his skin. She really was just the sweetest little thing.

“So as long as you let me call her Rin,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb up and down her arm gently. It didn’t look like they were going to have to coax her into a nap. There was still a possible threat out there, he was exhausted just from how bloody nerve wrecking the day had been, his mate was likely about to pass out, but despite all that, Greg couldn’t keep the goofy look off his face.

“Well, we can see who she takes after.” Greg looked up to see Sherlock right over him, peering down at his child with the harpoon still in hand. The sharp point at the end was glinting. “Sherlock, get that away from my children,” Greg hissed. Sherlock didn’t seem to be paying any attention to him.

Mycroft looked a little startled by the presence of the harpoon until he vaguely remembered Greg telling Sherlock to get it for some reason. Only then did it occur to him as to why. One of the first thoughts he’d had when the first plume of blood came was what predators it might attract. Apparently, it had been doing just that.

Suddenly, he was very grateful that Sherlock had come along, realising that his little brother had probably been scaring off sharks while he’d been giving birth. The mer was about to say something when his pouch tightened again and he suddenly felt a lighter need to push. Distressed, he looked to John.

“Are you- Oh, oh. Sorry, sorry. Sherlock, love, move. And get that thing away from them.” The healer shoo’d his mate off, back in front of Mycroft. “You’re about to pass the egg sacs. Pretty easy, just follow your instinct and push.”

Mycroft didn’t even nod, he just bore down one last time and pushed out what looked like two rubbery skins. John carefully picked them up and wound them together in a mushy looking ball. “I’ll take these with us. The scent should lead away any predators. Sharks consider these things a lovely snack so they should follow rather readily away from here to get them.”

“Good.. is there anything else you need to do? Because I think we’d rather like to get some rest...” Mycroft murmured, feeling completely drained. John smiled sympathetically, and gave them a little smile.

“There are still a few things I’d like to do, one is have you take this.” He handed Mycroft a small bundle of plants, which Mycroft took, chewed and swallowed without question. John nodded. “That should help with the pain. I have another salve I’m going to need to put in and on your vent to help prevent infection, but you don’t need to be paying attention to that. Mycroft nodded sleepily, letting him do that before looking to his mate.

“Can you manage looking after the little ones while I rest? I don’t think I’ll be able to stay awake for much longer...”

Greg moved from behind Mycroft to let him be able to lie down. "I said I would, did I?" Placing Rin down beside her brother, Greg took the opportunity to kiss Mycroft's forehead while brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Get some sleep love. I'll be up for when they get hungry," he promised.

Toby made a sleepy gurgling sound in his sleep as Greg pulled away and he prayed to the Goddess that Toby didn't bite his sister in his sleep. Just in case he arranged a thick piece of kelp between them, giving Toby something to munch on when he woke. Satisfied, Greg left the nest to show John and Sherlock out.

"You have no idea how grateful we are. Thank you, John, for everything. And you too Sherlock... Hey, don't let the fish out!" He shooed Sherlock from the basket of fish that he had been inspecting. He knew Sherlock knew how to build such contraptions but it never stopped him from messing with other people's things.

"Now," he said with a pointed look at Sherlock once they were out of the cave. "We are going to get some much needed rest before those two keep us up all night eating me out of house and home." Not that he planned on sleeping himself. Though he knew the egg sack trick, he wouldn't rest until he cleared the area of sharks himself but right then he had to keep an eye on the little ones.

By this time, Mycroft was dead asleep from the moment he’d made sure the little ones were looked after. John smiled at the four of them, his heart swelling. It always felt good to see a new family together, especially if there had been medical problems but things had still turned out all right in the end. Greg and Mycroft had been blessed with two beautiful children.

“I’ll check in in a few days, make sure everything’s healed up all right. Don’t hesitate to come to me if you feel like something isn’t right, though I wouldn’t worry about that. I have faith that he’ll recover fully in a few days.” John turned to go, mainly to get Sherlock out of their hair and let the little family get some rest, the egg sacs in tow. However, he paused, feeling silly for forgetting. “Oh, and congratulations.”

Smiling, John left, getting his mate to follow. Once they deposited the sacs somewhere far from the caves; they could head home, and get some rest themselves. It had been a long night.

Greg stayed at the mouth of the cave until the pair was out of sight. His eyes scanned the area, seeing nothing but small fish swimming about. That was enough for him to relax a little and turn back inside. His family was as he had left them, all three sleeping soundly. Muirenn had a piece of kelp held tightly in one hand while he was pretty sure that Toby was chewing on a piece in his sleep.

Smiling to himself, Greg shook his head and settled in behind Mycroft, careful not to disturb them. He positioned himself against the wall; chin tucked in against his chest, and set himself to watch his family. It hadn’t quite hit him yet, he thought, that they had become parents, but it must have because he couldn’t remember ever being any happier or more in love with Mycroft than he was at that moment. 


End file.
